Chapter Text
Morning light shone overhead as Izuku walked toward the address Yamcha had given him.
He wasn’t sure what to expect. Hard work, yes — but beyond that, no real clue how the training would actually begin. He wore sweatpants, old sneakers, and a faded white T-shirt.
The first thing he saw was the broken-down brick wall lining the edge of the lot. The ground looked uneven, rough. A worn path led forward, and he followed it.
Then he saw the house.
Round, a strange shape, that was new to him, power coming from what looked like a nearby generator. Chimney smoking gently. Nearby, a pile of bricks sat beside a crate marked for construction. Just sitting there, waiting.
Yeah. He had a pretty good guess what his first task was going to be.
He paused.
Thought back to dinner. That overheard comment about training and manual labor. About starting from the ground up.
Now, looking at the broken wall, the bricks, the layout — it was obvious.
This wasn’t just about fixing a fence.
It was about effort. Routine. Sweat. Foundation-building, in every sense.
It would take time. Would drain his energy. Would test him in ways that weren’t flashy or cool. But this was the kind of work that got results. This was where it started.
And this was only day one.
He took a slow breath. Calmed himself. Focused.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped toward the house — ready to begin.
Whatever it took, he’d do it.
If this was what it meant to grow stronger — to become the person he wanted to be — then he was all in.
Looking from the window, Yamcha saw the green-haired boy approaching the door.
He wanted him to take the first step. To start by crossing the gap and making the commitment.
Him walking to the door and knocking — that was him opening the door.
He smiled to himself. Proud of him.
Proud that he was taking the initiative and stepping forward, ready to work.
He looked around. Found a pair of gloves. Good solid gloves.
They’d help with the rebuilding of the wall —
No.
He wanted him to take the effort. To do the work.
Taking it away would defeat the point.
The kid needed it so desperately.
But he’d help.
He’d keep an eye on him.
Tell him to rest when he needed.
Make sure he wasn’t pushing himself too hard.
That was his job.
Build up basic strength —
Because without that, the rest would be pointless.
A moment later, a knock.
Yamcha walked to the door and opened it.
There he was.
His new student. Nervous. Bit shaky.
But there.
Ready to start.
“I’m sure you figured it out,” Yamcha said. “We’re going to rebuild the wall around the property.”
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the supplies.
“Looks like it was nice once. I went and found the right bricks.
You’re going to do this work.
You’re going to lay the bricks.
You’re going to make sure this wall comes up again.
It’s gonna be hard. Difficult.
I’ll clear off the broken parts that get in the way.
But you’re doing the manual labor of laying the wall.
We’ll put the gates back too.”
His tone left no room for argument.
“Of course this is only the first task of many you’re going to have.
So steal yourself.
Be ready for those in the future as well.
You’ve got a tough six months ahead.
Probably the toughest in your life.
But if you want to be a hero —
If you want to get into that fancy school —
You’re gonna have to push.
Smartly. Wisely. Efficiently.”
He saw the nod.
The nervousness was still there.
But the boy didn’t step away.
Didn’t look like he was afraid of work.
He looked ready.
Ready for whatever came.
Ready to dive into the hardest path that would push him where he wanted to go.
His dream so great that the challenge felt worth it.
“Got it,” Izuku replied with a nod.
“Show me where to start, and what’s expected. I’ll do my best!”
Smiling, Yamcha nodded.
He stepped out the door, letting it shut behind them.
He walked over to the brick pile, picked up a few, and moved toward the section of wall that had already collapsed.
Setting the bricks down, he grabbed the mortar and got to work.
He showed him how to lay bricks.
Layer of mortar.
Brick.
Press it in carefully.
Another layer of mortar — under, between, above.
Another brick.
Repeat.
Work hard, but doable.
He laid a few dozen while Izuku watched, mumbling to himself, thinking through the motions.
After around ten minutes:
“All right, sensei, I understand,” Izuku declared.
He stepped forward, started grabbing bricks.
Got to work.
Brick after brick.
Mortar. Press.
Another. Then another.
Slow progress — but steady.
They had time.
At the four-hour mark, Yamcha walked back out and found him still working.
He patted the boy on the shoulder.
A small signal.
Time to stop.
“Let’s not do it all in one day. Day by day.”
He gestured toward the house.
“Come on. I’m gonna make you something to eat.
We’ll relax for a little.
You can do a little more after, but first —
we’re going to meditate.”
He waited until Izuku looked up.
“This is gonna be important for you in the long run. Understood?”
Izuku nodded, still breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead, clothes clinging to him from the effort.
He followed Yamcha back to the capsule home.
“Okay. Get cleaned up first.
Then lunch.
Then meditation.”
Yamcha glanced over at him.
“When we meditate, it’s a little different.
Focus completely on clearing your mind.
Notice everything around you.
You won’t be able to at first.
It’s gonna take a long time.
But we’ll work through it — and maybe, in time, this’ll help.
It’s my idea for teaching you some other tricks I know. Long-term.”
Izuku nodded. Curious.
No idea what Yamcha was talking about.
But he figured he’d learn.
That was the point.
This way of training — this whole approach —
It was completely different from anything he’d ever seen from any hero.
The rest of the day passed the same.
Meditation.
Slow work.
Slower progress.
By mid-afternoon, the boy left.
Long walk home.
Rest.
Recovery.
Study for school.
He’d be back tomorrow.
Weekends would hit harder.
Weekdays, softer.
Every other day — strength.
Every other day — meditation.
They both knew the truth:
Meditation mattered.
Focusing the mind.
Understanding ki.
It wasn’t something for now —
It was the bridge.
The thing he’d need later.
When it mattered most.
Just like strength had to be built…
The mind had to be trained too.
Martial arts?
That came later.
Only once you were ready.
Days passed. Each one built on the last — progress stacked on progress.
The wall rose on all sides.
A few weeks later, they started clearing the rest of the lot.
Another week passed.
Then — the beach.
“This is your next challenge.”
Yamcha stood beside him, arms crossed, looking out over the mess.
“You used your strength to build it. Now you’re going to use that strength to clear this too.
I’ll keep an eye on you.
Same as the wall. Bit by bit.
You’ll build on what you’ve already got.
The idea is: when this beach is finished, and we’re done training,
you’ll be ready for that test you’re about to take.”
Izuku stared out across the trash-covered sand.
It was a lot.
But Yamcha was right.
If they’d started here —
he wouldn’t have made it.
Would’ve burned out.
But now…
The wall was done.
The lot was cleared.
He had made progress.
This wasn’t a hard start.
This was a big next step.
Overwhelming? Sure.
But so had the wall been, at first.
And that got finished.
If he could do that—
Why not this too?
The two of them nodded.
Understanding passed without words.
He got to work.
Training continued.
Day after day.
A month before the test:
Basic martial arts —
How to block.
How to punch.
How to kick.
Two weeks before:
Introduction to ki.
How to feel it.
How to notice it.
How to control it.
Progress kept moving.
Slower now.
The beach was done one week before the test.
That last week—
All ki training.
Strange.
Harsh.
Difficult.
It was physical—
But just as much mental.
Focus.
Stillness.
Awareness of everything around you.
Channel ki through the body.
Flight?
Extremely limited.
He could jump higher.
Maybe slow a fall.
That was it.
His only “attack”?
A couple tricks they’d figured out together.
No Kamehameha.
No blasts.
Just something simple.
Something real.
And then—
Time was up.
They’d trained.
Prepared.
Worked.
Built.
The last day passed.
And as the sun dropped below the horizon,
Yamcha led the boy back into the capsule home.
This time, Puar was cooking.
Baked udon.
They sat near the TV.
Izuku dropped into the chair, leaning back,
finally letting himself rest.
Yamcha pulled up a file.
Footage from one of the capsule cameras.
First day.
It played.
Izuku, walking up nervously.
The pile of bricks —
Open. Waiting.
He watched himself.
So different.
Shape. Posture.
Even the way he moved.
Back then—
He was just making a choice.
Stepping forward.
Now—
He’d come so far.
It felt like a million years ago.
A different life.
Even the time before the trip felt like some distant version of himself.
But it was real.
He’d worked.
He’d pushed.
Now, he felt strong.
Fast.
Capable.
The goal was in front of him.
Close.
UA.
The school he dreamed about.
Almost within reach.
He didn’t even smell the fresh food nearby —
His mind was too locked in.
He’d taken the paper test.
Done well.
Only one thing left now:
The physical exam.
Just that.
Between him—
And everything he’d been working for.
His dream.
His start.
His path forward.
Izuku enjoyed his meal.
Enjoyed the time with Yamcha, with Puar.
The food was good —
Good enough that it felt like a little reward.
Like a trophy for all the hard work he’d poured into preparing for the exam.
Not the final prize.
Just the first one.
But it meant something.
As he left, Puar hovered nearby, watching him go.
The boy was smiling.
“Master Yamcha,” the blue cat said, floating midair, “you’re a really good teacher. I bet Master Roshi would be proud of you. Of how well you’ve helped that kid.”
“Really think so?”
Yamcha’s hands went into his pockets as he stared down the road, watching Izuku’s figure shrink into the distance —
past the rebuilt gate, down the slope.
“I had good teachers myself.”
A quiet shrug.
“I’m still not close to getting that kid where he needs to be —
To be the hero he wants to become.”
He turned, heading back toward the house.
“True,” Puar nodded, voice soft, “but he’ll get there.”
He floated after him.
“Still— you better get some training in too, huh? The kid’s gonna need a teacher who’s at his best. No slacking.”
“Yeah.”
Yamcha gave a small grin.
“I gotta grow too. If I want him to work hard, I can’t do anything less.
I have to set a standard.
Show him what’s possible.”
He stopped near the shelf.
Reached for the container of capsules.
“I guess I need to get some real work in tonight.”
A click, a pause.
“I don’t have anything tomorrow. Unlike that kid.”
He pulled out the capsule labeled with the gravity chamber symbol.
Not too far.
He knew he couldn’t handle much.
But maybe… ten times gravity.
Just like the old days.
Back when King Kai trained him.
Maybe that’d shake the cobwebs loose.
Later, Puar watched from above as Yamcha tossed out the gravity chamber capsule and stepped inside.
The floating cat smiled.
This was good.
His master was working.
Focused.
With purpose.
Maybe it wasn’t for himself —
Not yet.
But it was a start.
And maybe, with time…
He’d find his own place in this world.
Somewhere he could shine.
Not just as someone from there.
But as someone who fit here.
A hero in his own way.