The train to Kenobi's agency felt longer than when Anakin had checked the route last week. Other students in UA uniforms crowded the car, heading to their own internships. A few glanced his way - news about Ben had spread through UA already.
His phone showed new messages from Mirio and Nejire. He hadn't answered any since yesterday.
Kenobi's agency sat at the edge of the city, a modest building between a convenience store and a repair shop. Anakin checked the address again, making sure he had the right place.
"You're early." A voice came from behind him. Kenobi stood in simple hero gear - light armor over plain robes, his blue energy blade hanging at his belt.
"Recovery Girl called," Kenobi said. "Said you might not come today."
"I needed to be here."
"Good answer." Kenobi led him to the back. The training area was bigger than Anakin expected. A rack of spherical droids caught his eye.
"Training remotes," Kenobi said, tossing him what looked like a practice sword. "We'll start with that."
"What about your energy blade?"
"Let's see if you can handle this first." Kenobi picked up one of the remotes. "These fire low-powered stun bolts. Block them, and maybe we'll talk about real blades."
The practice sword weighed roughly 5 pounds. Anakin gave it a test swing.
"Ready?"
"For what-"
The remote fired. A bolt caught Anakin in the shoulder. It stung.
"Lesson one," Kenobi said, trying not to smile. "Always be ready."
The remote fired again. Anakin swung wildly, missing completely. Another sting, this time on his arm.
"I read about your quirk. Your quirk gives you precognition, doesn't it? Use that instead of your eyes."
"How am I supposed to-" Another hit. His leg this time.
"Stop thinking so much. Let The Force guide your movements."
Two hours and dozens of stings later, Anakin finally deflected his first bolt. Kenobi immediately activated two more remotes.
"Seriously?"
"Villains won't attack one at a time."
By lunch, Anakin had more stings than successful blocks. They grabbed food from the convenience store next door.
"Not bad for a first morning," Kenobi said between bites.
"I barely blocked any."
"You blocked more than I did my first time." He finished his onigiri. "Ready for patrol?"
The afternoon passed quickly. They walked their route, Kenobi pointing out spots where villains liked to hide. No one tried anything with a pro hero around.
"One more training session," Kenobi said when they got back. "Those remotes aren't done with you yet."
Anakin groaned but picked up the practice sword. This time he managed to block a few more shots.
"That's enough," Kenobi finally said. "Same time tomorrow. And Skywalker?"
"Yeah?"
"Bring some ice packs. You'll need them."
The train ride home felt shorter. His phone still showed unread messages, but those could wait. Every part of him ached from training.
For a few hours at least, deflecting stun bolts had kept his mind off other things.
***
Anakin hit the mat for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.
"You know," Kenobi said, practice blade resting on his shoulder, "most students manage to stay standing for at least a few minutes."
"Most students probably get more than two days to learn." Anakin pushed himself up, grabbing his fallen blade. Sweat dripped onto the mat.
"True. But most students don't have your quirk." Kenobi swung lazily at Anakin's head. "Let's try something simpler. Hit me."
"That's it?"
"That's it. One clean hit."
Anakin struck. Kenobi's parry sent vibrations up his arms. Another strike - blocked again.
"Stop dancing around. Shii-Cho is direct. Head, shoulders, legs - pick a target and commit."
Anakin aimed at Kenobi's shoulder. The practice blade met empty air as his teacher sidestepped.
"Better. But your feet are wrong. You're fighting yourself more than me."
Three more attempts, three more misses. Anakin's arms burned.
"Watch." Kenobi demonstrated the strike slowly. "See how my back foot turns? The power comes from the ground up. Without proper footwork, you're just swinging a stick."
They worked through basic strikes until lunch. Kenobi made everything look easy - each movement flowing naturally into the next while Anakin struggled to copy him.
"You're thinking too hard," Kenobi said over convenience store onigiri. "Shii-Cho was created for a reason. The old masters figured out what worked and stripped away everything else."
Back in the training room, Kenobi turned on the practice dummies. "Now for the fun part."
"You have a weird idea of fun."
Three dummies attacked at once. Anakin remembered what Kenobi said about wide parries - one defensive sweep could block multiple strikes. His first attempt caught two dummy attacks but missed the third.
"Not bad!" Kenobi called. "Now add those footwork drills we practiced."
Slowly, things started clicking. The basic moves made more sense when Anakin stopped overthinking them. Strike the head, parry wide, step into the next attack.
"This is what Shii-Cho was built for," Kenobi said, shutting down the dummies. "Real fights are messy. Multiple attackers, no time for fancy moves."
"Is that why you're teaching me the basics first?"
"That, and watching you fall down is entertaining."
They sparred until evening. Anakin's muscles screamed, but his strikes felt stronger. Even Kenobi had to work a bit harder to parry them.
"Enough for today." Kenobi caught Anakin's final attack with a sweeping block. "Practice those sequences tonight. And ice those bruises - we start earlier tomorrow."
On the train home, Anakin's phone showed five missed calls from his mom. He'd forgotten to message her after lunch.
His mom looked up when he walked in. "Rough day?"
"Kenobi's idea of training is hitting me until I learn to block."
"Is it working?"
"Ask my bruises." He grabbed food from the kitchen. "But yeah, kind of."
In his room, Anakin picked up the broom handle he'd been using for practice. The weight was wrong, but it helped him remember the moves.
Head, shoulders, legs. Wide parries. Proper footwork.
Simple stuff really. But that was the point of Shii-Cho - strip away the complicated moves and focus on what worked.
His arms would hate him tomorrow, but at least he'd managed to stay on his feet the last few rounds.
Maybe Kenobi would actually let him hit something instead of just falling down.
The Next Day
Rain seemed right for a funeral. Anakin stood between his mom and grandmother as people shared stories about Ben. About his terrible jokes, his kindness, his move back to Japan just to be close to family.
Great-Granny Chiyo sat near the front, looking smaller than usual in black. Several of Ben's coworkers spoke about his dedication to work, though they didn't mention his habit of getting lost on his way to meetings.
The priest said something about peace and memories. Anakin didn't really listen. His attention kept drifting to the empty seat where his grandfather should have been telling inappropriate jokes during a funeral.
"He would have hated this," his grandmother whispered, almost smiling. "All these serious faces."
She was right. Ben would have cracked a joke by now, probably about the priest's robes or the weather.
After the service, people offered condolences. Mirio and Nejire came, staying quiet for once. Even some of Ben's favorite convenience store workers showed up, bringing stories about his daily All Might merchandise hunts.
"Remember when he tried to buy out the entire stock of limited edition figures?" One worker said. "Said his grandson needed backup copies in case anything happened to the originals."
Anakin remembered. Ben had called it "hero merchandise emergency planning."
His mom squeezed his hand. She hadn't cried - too busy making sure everyone else was okay. Classic Megumi, taking care of others first.
The reception felt endless. More stories. More condolences. More "he was a good man" from people Anakin had never met.
All Might showed up briefly, paying respects without drawing attention. Recovery Girl must have told him. He spoke quietly with Megumi for a few minutes before leaving.
Food sat untouched on plates. Coffee grew cold in cups. Rain tapped against windows while people shared memories of a man who should have been there making everyone laugh.
"Your grandfather loved this place," someone said. Another coworker Anakin didn't know. "Always got lost trying to find it, but loved it anyway."
By evening, most people had left. Anakin stayed behind while his mom helped clean up. The rain had finally stopped, leaving puddles that reflected street lights.
"We should go," his mom said, touching his shoulder. "Grandmother's waiting."
One last look at his grandfather's picture - grinning like he'd just told the world's worst joke. Ben would have appreciated the irony of making people cry at his funeral when he'd spent his life trying to make them laugh.
The drive home felt longer than usual. His grandmother had gone with Chiyo, leaving Anakin and his mom in comfortable silence.
"He would have liked it," Megumi said finally. "Everyone sharing stories. Even the bad jokes."
"Especially the bad jokes," Anakin replied, managing a faint smile.
Megumi glanced at him, noticing the exhaustion in his eyes. "You know… I think he'd say you should still smile, even if you don't feel like it."
Anakin looked out the window, watching the blurred city lights pass by. "I didn't think I'd miss him this much."
"You weren't the only one who lost him, Anakin." Megumi's voice softened. "But we've still got each other."
Anakin didn't respond, letting her words hang in the air as he processed everything. The day had been too heavy, too full of emotions he didn't quite know how to handle. He was grateful for his mom's presence, but there were moments when it felt like the world was just too big to understand.
At the takeout place, Megumi didn't push him to talk more. Instead, they chose a quiet booth by the window. The rain had stopped, but the streets outside were still slick with water, reflecting the dim lights above.
Megumi handed him a cup of tea. "Ben always liked this place. He said it was the best in town, even though the food wasn't anything special."
Anakin chuckled lightly, setting the cup down. "He had a way of making everything sound important."
"Exactly." Megumi's smile was small but warm. "Even his ridiculous jokes had meaning. A way to make everyone feel like they mattered."
They sat quietly for a while, the weight of the day pressing down. Anakin thought about Ben and how, despite everything, he had always made people feel like they weren't alone. Even in death, it seemed as if Ben's legacy was still trying to make them smile, to find joy in the chaos of the world.
"Tomorrow's training," Megumi finally said, breaking the silence. "You ready?"
Anakin's eyes flickered toward her, still processing everything. "I can skip… just for today. You know, to—"
"No." Megumi shook her head firmly. "Your grandfather would hate that. He'd probably make some awful pun about you slacking off."
Anakin let out a soft laugh, the image of Ben's teasing face clear in his mind. "You're right. He'd never let me hear the end of it."
They finished their meal in silence, but it was the kind of silence that didn't feel so heavy. The kind that came after understanding, after grief had been shared.
After they got home, Anakin changed out of his funeral clothes and hung them up, hoping he wouldn't need them again anytime soon. His phone showed messages from Mirio and Nejire - checking if he needed anything. He didn't feel like responding yet, but they were always there when he needed them. He sent a quick reply, then dropped the phone on his bed and rubbed his eyes. His muscles ached from the training, from everything.
"I'll be fine," he murmured to himself, thinking back to Kenobi's voice, how it had guided him through the grueling training. Maybe it was what he needed, the focus, the discipline, the structure.
He sat down at his desk, glancing at the broom handle he'd been using for practice. The weight still felt off, but it was getting easier. Everything was getting easier.
"Tomorrow will be better," he muttered under his breath, even though he wasn't sure if he believed it.
Across the city, in a dimly lit room, a man studied a collection of items displayed in glass cases. News articles about Ben's death. Security footage from that night. A hospital wristband worn by Megumi years ago.
"A grandfather for a son... fair trade," he murmured, his fingers lightly grazing the glass.
The man's scarred face reflected faintly in the glass as his gaze lingered on a framed photo of Ben. A casual smile, caught in time, a life now snuffed out.
"You thought yourself a father," he continued, speaking aloud as though Ben could hear. "But your efforts were futile. The son I seek is far more... malleable."
His finger brushed over the photo, then drifted to the wristband Megumi had worn several years ago, a key symbol of his manipulation.
"The boy has inherited much. Power. Anger. Purpose." A cruel smile tugged at his lips. "But it's the chains that interest me. His attachments, his ties to this pathetic family. All the better to break him with. The path to his true potential is paved with their broken dreams."
He turned away, the silence in the room thick with anticipation. The articles chronicled every detail of Ben's murder. The mysterious deaths of the three suspects. A family's grief laid out in black and white.
"But that's the beauty of it, isn't it?" he mused, pacing slowly, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "Grief is such a powerful tool. It forces growth, molds the mind, weakens resolve. He'll see the truth soon enough... that family, love, loyalty—those are his chains."
He paused, his eyes narrowing on a final news article, one with a headline about Anakin's increasing strength. "Everything is proceeding exactly as planned," he said quietly, a dark satisfaction filling his words. "I only need to pull the final strings, and the boy will come to me. His true destiny awaits."
The sound of a door opening echoed behind him, and the figure didn't turn. "Is everything proceeding as planned?"
"Yes," a voice responded, colder than the room around them. "All according to schedule. We'll make sure he doesn't stray."
The man's scarred face twisted into a smile. "Good. Let him believe he has control, that he can choose his path. It will make the fall all the more satisfying when it comes."
***
Two days had passed since Anakin's last session with Obi-Wan, but the soreness in his arms hadn't faded. His bruises were a badge of honor, each one a reminder of his failure and progress. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting nowhere. He wanted to be stronger—faster—more capable, but every new form felt like another mountain to climb.
He stood in the training room, staring at his practice blade, as Obi-Wan set up a few training dummies. The room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the droids whirring to life.
"You're ready," Obi-Wan said, his voice calm but firm, as though he already knew what was coming. "Form V. Djem So."
Anakin looked at him, brow furrowing. "Form V? I thought we were sticking to Form I for a while."
Obi-Wan shook his head, the edges of his mouth curving into a faint smile. "You've mastered Form I to a degree. Now it's time to move on. Djem So is about strength and power, about using your opponent's energy against them."
Anakin nodded, focusing on the practice blade in his hand. "And how does that differ from Shii-Cho?"
"Shii-Cho is basic, as you know. It's about simplicity, a foundation to build on. Djem So, however, is about control and domination. It's less about evasion and more about delivering powerful, decisive strikes. If you can master Djem So, you'll be able to turn the tide of any fight."
Anakin felt his heart beat faster. This was exactly what he needed. The aggression in him stirred at the thought of using his power more directly.
Obi-Wan gestured toward the dummies. "Let's start with the basics. You're going to want to focus on your strikes, using your weight and strength to land a blow. We'll build from there."
Anakin stepped forward, gripping his practice blade tightly. He'd been waiting for a moment like this, a chance to truly test his might. He charged at the nearest dummy, bringing the blade down in a heavy strike.
The impact was satisfying, the force of the blow reverberating up his arms, but it wasn't enough. He could feel something missing—a lack of focus, of precision.
Obi-Wan's voice cut through the air, calm and measured. "Not bad. But remember, Form V is about using power with purpose. You're still swinging too blindly. Think of the target, and bring your strength down with control. Make every strike count."
Anakin took a deep breath, shifting his stance. This time, he focused on the target, grounding himself before he swung. His next strike landed with a solid thud, pushing the dummy backward. He grinned, feeling the rush of accomplishment.
"Better," Obi-Wan said. "Now, let's work on the counter-attacks. Djem So isn't just about offense. It's also about defending and using your opponent's strikes to your advantage."
Anakin's grin faded as Obi-Wan brought out a second dummy, set on a faster cycle. The second dummy came at him quickly, its strikes faster than the first. Anakin reacted instinctively, blocking the blows, but Obi-Wan's teaching echoed in his mind—defense was just as important as offense.
With every strike that came at him, Anakin's mind raced. The blows were fast and precise, but he could see the patterns. He just needed to wait for the right moment. He focused on the incoming strike and shifted his blade to parry, letting the force of the attack push him into a counter-strike.
The blade met the dummy's neck with a satisfying crack, and the machine fell.
"Good," Obi-Wan said. "You're starting to see the rhythm. Djem So is all about anticipation, not just strength. You're not just reacting; you're manipulating the flow of the fight."
Anakin exhaled, sweat dripping down his face. He'd expected it to be harder, but it felt natural once he found the rhythm. The more he practiced, the more his strikes felt fluid, like he was beginning to understand the art of war.
"Now let's add something else," Obi-Wan said. He activated two more dummies. "You need to be able to defend from multiple attackers. Djem So isn't just a one-on-one style."
Anakin groaned inwardly, but he squared his shoulders, determined to keep pushing.
The dummies moved, circling him, launching strikes from all sides. At first, Anakin panicked, swinging his blade in wild arcs to keep them at bay. But Obi-Wan's voice reminded him: "Use their momentum, not your own. Let them come at you. Channel their energy into your attacks."
He focused, letting go of the fear, trusting his instincts. He parried one attack, deflected another, then stepped into a wide strike, catching both dummies off guard. One fell.
Obi-Wan smiled approvingly. "There you go. That's better. Now you're starting to see how Djem So works in multiple combat situations. Power isn't just about raw strength; it's about using the environment, using what your opponent gives you."
Anakin nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. He couldn't deny it—he felt more powerful than ever. The aggression inside him found an outlet in these strikes, and the feeling was intoxicating.
They continued practicing for hours, Anakin gradually learning the intricacies of Form V. Each new lesson, each strike, began to build on the last, until his movements became more precise, more calculated. By the end of the day, his muscles ached from the intensity of the training, but the soreness was no longer just from effort—it was a reminder of how far he'd come.
"Good work today," Obi-Wan said, his voice warm with approval. "You've made good progress. But remember, this is just the beginning."
Anakin nodded, though he could feel his fatigue weighing on him. "What's next?"
Obi-Wan glanced over at the training dummies. "We'll build on this tomorrow. Djem So isn't something you learn in one day, but you're on the right track."
Anakin felt a rush of pride swell in his chest. He was beginning to understand what it meant to be a warrior, to wield his power with purpose. The journey wasn't over, but it was becoming clearer with every passing moment.
As they walked back to the main part of the agency, Obi-Wan looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. "You know, Anakin, I see a lot of potential in you. But potential means nothing if you don't learn to control it. You're not just learning to fight. You're learning to lead."
Anakin glanced up at him, confusion in his gaze. "Lead?"
Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze steady. "You have a future ahead of you. A future that's bigger than just your own strength. I'll make sure you're ready for it."
Anakin wasn't sure what Obi-Wan meant, but something in his words struck a chord deep within him. There was more to being a hero than just power. He would have to learn that lesson, too.
For now, though, he was content to focus on his training. With each passing day, he was growing stronger, more confident. And with Obi-Wan by his side, he felt like he could take on anything.