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Chapter 100: Gran Torino's Crucible
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 00:54:19 +0000 UTCThe meeting point was an anonymous bus stop on the outskirts of Musutafu. The morning light was pale and cold, and the air smelled of damp asphalt and the promise of a very, very long day. Yu Takeyama was leaning against the shelter, wearing sunglasses so large they seemed to hide all her secrets, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.
"I still can't believe an old curmudgeon blackmailed me into sweating on my day off," she muttered to herself, taking a sip from her cup. "Izuku, this had better be worth it."
Izuku, who was double-checking the straps on his backpack, gave her a tense smile.
"It will be, Yu-san! Your advice on hand-to-hand combat will be invaluable for situations where I can't use my Quirk. This is a unique opportunity."
Beside him, Toga was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her golden eyes gleaming with a manic energy that contrasted with the morning calm.
"A secret training session with a legend! This is way better than watching TV! Do you think he'll teach us how to break necks?"
Ochako, who was next to her, gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow.
"Toga-chan! Don't say that!"
Inko Midoriya adjusted the jacket of her training outfit. She was visibly nervous, but her green eyes burned with a steely determination.
"I just hope I can keep up."
A black, unmarked UA van screeched to a halt at the curb. The sliding door grated open, revealing a tiny figure sitting at the wheel. He was an elderly man, so short his feet barely reached the pedals, wearing a yellow cape and a mask that covered his eyes. His presence, however, filled the space with an aura of authority so dense it made everyone fall silent.
"Stop chattering and get in," Gran Torino rasped, his voice harsh and impatient. "Time is money, and you've already made me waste a fortune."
His gaze swept over the diverse group, pausing for an instant on each of them before settling on Yu.
"You. The giant one. Don't break anything."
Yu huffed but got into the van without a word, followed by the rest of the team. The ride proceeded in a tense silence. The van took them far from the city, up into the hills, until they reached a remote facility enclosed by high concrete walls. When the gates opened, they revealed a full-scale replica of an abandoned urban district: concrete office buildings, narrow streets, and rusted cars scattered across the asphalt.
"Whoa!" exclaimed Toru, her voice full of awe as they got out. "This place is huge! We could play hide-and-seek here for a week!"
"You're not here to play," Gran Torino said, slamming the van door shut. "You're here so it stops being embarrassing to watch you fight. Let's begin."
The old man walked to the center of a deserted plaza, his small figure a point of calm in the middle of the simulated chaos. He turned to face them, his eyes, visible through the mask, as sharp as shards of obsidian.
"You, the mumbler boy. The one who thinks he's a strategist. The rest of you, watch."
He settled into a combat stance in front of Izuku, a low, stable posture that radiated contained energy.
"Your goal isn't to beat me, brat. That's impossible. Your goal is to touch me. Just once. You have five minutes."
Izuku swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He nodded, his own body instinctively adopting the defensive stance he had been practicing.
Gran Torino's attack wasn't an attack. It was a disappearance.
In an instant, he was no longer there. A blur of yellow and blue ricocheted off the wall of a building to Izuku's left, then off the hood of a car to his right, and then off the ground in front of him, all in less than a second. He became an unpredictable human projectile.
Izuku reacted. His "Predictive Combat Analysis" fired up like a supercharged engine. He didn't see Gran Torino; he perceived his intentions, his vectors of movement. His body moved before his conscious mind could process the threat, a fluid and desperate dance. He leaned back, and Gran Torino's boot whistled past his nose. He slid to the side, and an elbow strike hit the air where his head had been.
From the sidelines, the team watched with their mouths open.
"He's doing it!" Ochako whispered, her heart in her throat. "He's dodging Gran Torino!"
"He's not just dodging," Momo said, her voice tight with concentration. "His body is moving a fraction of a second before impact. It's like he knows where the hit is going to land before he even throws it."
But Gran Torino was no low-level villain. He was a legend. The frustration of not being able to land a single clean hit was transformed into a lesson.
"Not bad, brat! Your instincts are good!" his voice came from all directions at once. "But it's singular!"
The pattern changed. Gran Torino was no longer a single projectile. By ricocheting off the walls and ground of the plaza, he created multiple simultaneous attack vectors. His image seemed to multiply, striking from above, below, and the flanks all at the same time.
Izuku's brain overloaded. Predicting a single wolf was possible. Predicting the whole pack attacking at once was a chaos his system couldn't process.
A sharp, precise blow slammed into his side, stealing his breath. Another, to the back of his knee, made him stumble. A third, an open-palm strike to his back, sent him face-first onto the dirty concrete sidewalk.
The whirlwind stopped. Gran Torino landed softly a few feet away, while Izuku lay on the ground, breathless and humiliated.
"You see it, don't you?" the old man said, his voice without a hint of fatigue. "Your instinct is good against a single target. But in a real battle, chaos has a thousand faces. Your brain can predict one wolf, but not the whole pack attacking at once. You're still slow. You're predictable in your defense. Next."
Izuku pushed himself up with difficulty, his body aching, but his eyes were burning with understanding. It hadn't been a defeat. It had been his first real lesson.
Gran Torino turned to the rest of the group, his gaze falling on Toga.
"You. The face-changer. I've heard interesting things about you. Prove them."
Izuku, catching his breath, approached Toga.
"Toga, we need a titanium shield. Like the ones Momo makes. Try it."
Momo stepped forward without hesitation. From one of the pockets of her training jacket, she took out a small sample syringe. With a quick, professional motion, she pricked her finger.
"Here. Just a drop."
She offered her blood to Toga, a gesture of trust so absolute it silenced everyone else. Toga looked at her, surprised for an instant, and then a genuine smile spread across her face.
"Thanks, Yaomomo. I've always wanted to have a taste."
She took the drop of blood with the tip of her tongue. The transformation was instantaneous. Her body stretched, her features refined, and her blonde hair darkened to jet black, gathering into a high, spiky ponytail. Standing before them was a perfect copy of Momo Yaoyorozu.
"Incredible," Toru murmured. "That's a little scary."
The Momo copy raised a hand, her face a mask of concentration.
"Creation!"
A metallic object began to form on her forearm. But it wasn't a shield. It was a deformed mass of metal, twisted and shapeless, as if a shield had melted in the sun. It fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"Agh! Why isn't it working?!" Toga complained, her voice a perfect imitation of Momo's frustration. "I'm thinking 'shield' but this garbage comes out!"
The real Momo walked over, her expression that of a patient teacher with a difficult student.
"You're not thinking like me. You can't just think of the object. You have to think about its molecular structure. Visualize the carbon and titanium atoms bonding, the crystalline lattice forming. It's not magic, Toga. It's chemistry."
"You sound like a boring textbook!" the copy retorted, pouting.
She tried again, this time closing her eyes, her face tight with effort. The shield she created this time was better. It had the right shape, but the surface was lumpy and full of imperfections. It was almost functional, but clearly inferior.
"It's a little better! Hey, this is hard!"
Momo nodded, a small smile forming on her lips.
"I know. It took me years."
During a short water break, Izuku's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled out the device, and a tired but genuine smile appeared on his face as he read the message.
NEMURI: Surviving the old demon, my little prodigy? 😉 Don't let him intimidate you. His bark is worse than his bite. Although his bite is pretty bad too. Call me when you're done. I want a full report.
Ochako and Toru, sitting beside him, noticed the smile and shot him knowing, curious glances. He quickly put his phone away, feeling a familiar warmth in his cheeks.
"Break's over."
Gran Torino's voice made them jump to their feet. His gaze was hard, relentless, but for the first time, Izuku noticed an almost imperceptible glint of approval in his eyes.
"You've seen your individual weaknesses. Now, let's see if you can survive as a team. The real lesson… starts now."
The team gathered, bruised, tired, but with a new determination forged in failure. True hell was about to be unleashed.
