"Come on, Izuku. We only have five more meters to drag this refrigerator, and we will have completed today's quota."
I shouted to Midoriya, who was covered in sweat and could barely move his legs. I hoped he would not overexert himself. That would be an unfortunate outcome for this training session.
"Just a moment, Ken. Ha. Just a little more. Let me catch my breath."
One week had passed since we started cleaning up this beach. Of course, first we cleared a space for warm up exercises and stretches. Dragging away trash would increase our physical strength and endurance, but not our speed or agility. So before each cleaning session, we went for a run, followed by stretching exercises.
I had been through training before and knew how to properly distribute my workload. Midoriya, on the other hand, could be wrung out like a wet rag. I often had to stop him from overloading himself, and then drag him back to his house. But this time, it seemed he would be able to walk on his own.
I looked at Izuku, who was lying spread eagle on the ground after finally dragging that refrigerator to the pile. Well, hope dies last.
"Here."
"Thanks."
Izuku caught the water bottle I threw to him and drank from it greedily. Over the course of our training and discussions, he had become more confident. It was a shame not confident enough to tell Bakugo to go to hell.
I was really puzzled by the relationship between those two. I could understand that Midoriya did not want to fight back because of his inferiority complex. But why did that Kacchan keep picking on Midoriya for years? That I did not understand. Maybe the way he said the nickname "Kacchan" kept him in a state similar to someone who had taken Trigger.
It was actually fun to tease him. The look of sacred horror on the faces of those around him and his reactions were especially amusing. Katsuki was so used to the respectful attitude of others that the slightest teasing threw him into confusion and provoked aggression because he did not know how to respond.
So, our first official meeting ended with him chasing me, trying to blow me up with his nitroglycerin sweat, and me laughing nonstop. I could not decide what was funnier: Kacchan's red face, ready to explode anything and screaming "Die!", or the sight of Izuku standing off to the side, looking like his worldview had just been shaken.
This time with Izuku had lifted some weight off my shoulders, relaxed me a little. But I did not forget my main goal, which was to become strong enough to destroy my enemies when the opportunity arose.
Over the years, I had not actively searched for that laboratory or the organization behind it. My strength was still too weak to confront them, let alone destroy them. So I tried to hide one ability of my Quirk, or rather a property of Dark Matter.
Dark Matter itself flows steadily through my body and pulses when I use it to pass through objects. I even named this ability "Choice," because I can choose what can touch me and what cannot. But the situation changes when I try to release it from my body. It becomes extremely aggressive, first trying to absorb everything around me, even the air. If that fails, it tries to distort or destroy.
I cannot use this in combat because it requires too much concentration. But the benefit outweighs the drawback. Any person's energy can be absorbed and assimilated, albeit with some loss, by Dark Matter. And the stronger the person's Quirk, the higher the efficiency.
What drove me to use absorption was that the amount of Dark Matter I would have gained from that guy with the fire Quirk would have taken me two years of ordinary training to achieve, based on rough calculations. And the more Dark Matter I have, the less energy I spend using it, and the higher the passive enhancement of my body becomes.
For a while, I was afraid that they might find me because of the known ability of "Choice," which I had presented as my Quirk. So I found out that while such an ability is rare, it is by no means unique.
Midoriya, whom I was now dragging home, would probably be horrified by how many people I had killed and how many I planned to kill. Even if they were all villains, criminals, drug dealers, and rapists, that did not change the fact that I am a killer who kills for power and my own well being.
Therefore, Izuku is only an acquaintance of mine. It would be hypocritical to call someone a friend when I cannot trust them with my secret.
"Good evening, Midoriya san. We are back from training. Izuku is a little tired, and so am I."
"Hello, Ken kun. I have prepared dinner for you. So sit down and eat with us. It is so good that Izuku finally has friends."
Midoriya Inko, a pleasant, slightly plump woman, moved actively around the kitchen, talking quickly and expressively. I think I understood which parent Izuku got his emotional nature and habit of gesticulating from. Rice, meat miso soup, and steamed vegetables began to appear on the table. Knowing that arguing was useless, I sat down. Besides, I genuinely liked Midoriya san's cooking.
Questions about family were a problem, though. I had to lie about living with relatives. Sometimes I felt sad about how easily lies and hiding the truth came to me.
"Thank you, Midoriya san. Sorry for any inconvenience. I have to go home now. My uncle asked me to help him with something. So goodbye. See you later, Izuku."
"Come again, Ken kun."
"See you, Ken. And… thank you for helping me train. I am glad to have a friend like you."
Izuku said this with a bright smile. In return, I gave my usual friendly smile, slightly narrowing my eyes.
"You are welcome, Izuku. I was happy to help you."
After saying goodbye, I left the home of this small but wonderful family. I sometimes even felt envious when I saw the relationship between mother and son. But it was more of a white envy. I had long accepted my situation. And I had no intention of giving up on my goals.
I walked toward the bar where Giran had asked me to come after sending me a message earlier today. I could have refused. I had paid him everything I owed him, that stingy bastard. But I did not want to lose the potential to earn money, gain experience, and increase my strength. After all, a large portion of the villains I had killed and absorbed were found thanks to him.
Even though he benefits from villains for his business, those who are too violent, uncontrollable, and openly disruptive usually disappear. So there is not much difference if they disappear with my help. I felt like a villain from old comic books who pretends to be a good, upstanding citizen during the day and becomes a serial killer at night. A life turned into an endless game of masks and walking on the edge of a knife.
"Hold it right there, kid. We need to ask you something. Our friends here saw you steal their stuff. As compensation, we will be taking everything you have on you. Any objections?"
Two men of an obviously thuggish appearance stopped in front of me, and a third began approaching from behind. I thoughtfully examined the thugs, remembering which district I was in and whether there were any hero patrols nearby.
I took off my backpack, holding it in my hands, flashed a bright smile, and said:
"Yes, I have objections."
I threw the backpack at the first two. I held my breath, made my entire body permeable to air, and drove a knife into the eye of the approaching opponent with a spinning kick. I drew another knife, leaving the first in the corpse. I turned toward the remaining two future corpses. My smile widened.
"You know, moments like these in a villain's life are starting to grow on me."