Gamma Gym.
Aizawa Shota wrapped his battle bandage around his neck, his weary but sharp eyes, those of a professional hero, sweeping over the teenager standing ten paces away.
Onodera Ryuga had recovered sooner than expected.
Too soon, considering his physical and mental exhaustion just a few days prior.
The layers of white bandages that had once covered him were now mostly removed, leaving only a few adhesive bandages on his cheeks and neck.
“You want me to train you in martial arts?” Aizawa’s voice was even and emotionless.
“Yes, sensei,” Ryuga replied, his tone polite and calm like a still lake.
“What happened showed me that my Quirk isn’t invincible.
When neutralized or facing an opponent with superior physical strength, I become a mere cannon fodder.
I need hand-to-hand combat skills.”
“The U.A.
Sports Festival is coming up.
If you’re planning to use it as leverage…”
“I won’t participate.” Ryuga interrupted, his voice devoid of any emotion.
“My decision to withdraw hasn’t changed.
This training is purely for preparation for the future, not for showing off in the ring.”
Aizawa’s eyes, hidden beneath the white bandage, narrowed slightly.
A thirst for strength to survive, yet a rejection of the opportunity to shine.
A perfect contradiction.
“Alright.” Aizawa stretched, his joints cracking.
He loosened the cloth bandage around his neck.
“But before I accept anyone as my instructor, I need to know their limits.
Go, Onodera.
Give it your all.
Don’t hold back, or don’t even think about me teaching you anything.”
Ryuga neither smiled nor nodded.
He simply…
vanished from sight.
There were no unnecessary movements or fancy defensive stances.
In the blink of an eye, the ten-foot distance was shortened to less than a hand’s length.
At the start of the sparring session, a straight thrust with all four fingers flew directly at Aizawa’s throat.
Aizawa tilted his head to dodge, a cold gust of wind whistling past his cheek.
Not a punch, but a throat thrust.
From the very first second, this kid had targeted a vital point.
Ryuga didn’t miss his chance.
When the thrust missed, he immediately used the momentum to spin, his left elbow striking Aizawa’s temple, forcing him to block again.
The force wasn’t as devastating as Midoriya’s enhanced-type students, but the accuracy was terrifying.
He wasn’t trying to knock him down, Aizawa silently analyzed as he continuously deflected attacks aimed at his student’s eyes, neck, and knees.
He was trying to eliminate his target.
Every blow from Ryuga was devoid of unnecessary flair.
He used his reflexes and keen observation to find blind spots in Aizawa’s vision.
However, the combination of his attacks was incredibly awkward.
He was like a machine pre-programmed with data on lethal moves, but lacking the lubrication to link them into a smooth, complete sequence.
Throughout the exchange, even though he couldn’t land a single hit on Aizawa, those pitch black eyes remained chillingly cold and still.
There was no sign of Quirk activation.
No unusual light, no outward physical transformation.
Ryuga fought purely with brute force and pure technique.
It was this ordinariness that momentarily caused a seasoned hero like Aizawa to become complacent.
“Meia Lua de Compasso”
Ryuga suddenly lowered his center of gravity, placing both hands on the floor and spinning his body in a perfect circle, unleashing a roundhouse kick aimed directly at Aizawa’s ribs and raised defensive arm.
It was just a spinning kick, Aizawa thought to himself, deciding to use his right forearm to counter and end the match.
He had perfectly calculated the kicking power of a fifteen-year-old boy.
But the moment Ryuga’s heel struck Aizawa’s arm, a sharp, unexpected pain struck, startling the teacher.
With his uncanny skill, Ryuga had instantly hardened his leg the moment he launched the attack, and combined with his immense leg strength, the blow was now like carrying a heavy iron mace weighing dozens of pounds with the full force of a strongman.
He used his Quirk in that instant?!
But the resilience of a Pro Hero wouldn’t allow Aizawa to give up.
Ignoring the excruciating pain, his eyes flashed with a fiery red light.
His black hair stood on end.
His Quirk-neutralizing ability was activated.
Seizing the moment Ryuga lost his balance and fell backward due to the sudden weight imbalance, Aizawa lunged forward, his knee pressing tightly against Ryuga’s chest, while his left hand locked onto Ryuga’s throat, pinning him to the wooden floor.
The fight ended with a single counterattack as Aizawa took it seriously.
Meanwhile, outside the slightly ajar door of the training room…
Two students from Class 1-A stood frozen.
They had initially only come to the training room after school, but had inadvertently witnessed this breathtaking battle.
Izuku swallowed hard, his eyes wide with utter bewilderment as he truly saw Ryuga’s flamboyant yet brutal fighting style.
Unlike his own Smash moves, Ryuga’s martial arts, though perhaps not yet fully mastered, were full of techniques that Izuku could completely replicate.
It made him think for the first time about his own fighting style, which he had always just imitated – one punch to conquer the world, or multiple punches if he wanted to be serious.
For Ojiro Mashirao, the most knowledgeable martial artist in the class, this was definitely not something he could casually use, even against himself.
“That kind of martial art…” Ojiro whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
“Why…
Of all the martial arts he could learn, why did he choose to combine those things together…?”
“What do you mean, Mashirao-san?” Izuku asked, his eyes still fixed on him.
“Close Quarters Combat.
Capoera.
Vovinam.
This combination isn’t for fun, Midoriya,” Ojiro replied seriously.
“If you master it completely, let alone me, even a criminal wouldn’t be unscathed afterwards…”
…
Inside the room, Aizawa slowly rose, releasing Ryuga.
He clutched his swollen right arm, his gaze fixed on his troublesome student with a completely newfound assessment.
Ryuga scrambled to his feet, brushing the dust off his gym uniform, his demeanor returning to its usual politeness, a stark contrast to the beast that had lunged at him just seconds before.
“Your destructive power is excellent.
Your skillful application of Quirks to increase bone mass and the hardness of your physical attacks is also very cunning.
Thanks to you, my arm is fractured,” Aizawa growled, his face remaining cold.
“I’m sorry, Aizawa-sensei.
I didn’t control my leg strength well.” Ryuga bowed slightly.
“However,” Aizawa gestured with his chin.
“Your technique combinations are very clumsy and awkward.
You know where the human body’s weaknesses lie, but you lack the connection between your strikes.
Your body reacts slower than your mind.
Furthermore, if you don’t want to unleash your leg power like an ostrich to kick your opponent to death, learn to control your strength.
Heroes need to ‘control’ criminals, not ‘neutralize’ them.”
Hearing the comment, Ryuga’s eyes flickered with satisfaction.
He bowed a little deeper.
“I understand.
Thank you for the advice.
So…
will you continue to teach me martial arts?”
Aizawa gazed intently at the teenager’s jet-black hair, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Tomorrow, six o’clock in the evening, here.
Remember not to be late, or you won’t be able to ask me for anything.”
…
The following days at Gym Gamma were nothing short of “hell” for Ryuga.
Unlike the standard training sessions at U.A, where teachers encouraged students to unleash their Quirks and push their limits to the fullest—the private sessions between Aizawa and Ryuga followed an entirely opposite philosophy: suppression of power and minimization of movement.
“Too many wasted motions,” Aizawa said coldly.
The capture weapon around his neck had been loosened slightly, but his tired eyes still pierced through every single one of Ryuga’s stances.
“That Meia Lua de Compasso kick you used last time was quite surprising, but the arc of your hips was far too wide.
In a real battle against a high-level enemy, the moment you turn your back to them would be enough for you to die three times over.”
Ryuga panted heavily, sweat dripping down his chin and soaking his sports tank top.
He nodded without a word of protest.
“Vovinam and Capoeira have beautiful takedowns and leg chokes,” Aizawa continued, walking slowly around Ryuga while analyzing him, his calloused hands already wrapped in bandages.
“But a hero’s goal isn’t to put on a show, nor is it to kill.
The goal is restraint.
A choke doesn’t need to snap the opponent’s cervical spine.
It only needs to compress the carotid artery for exactly four seconds to induce temporary unconsciousness, or shift their center of gravity to lock the shoulder joint.”
Without warning, Aizawa stepped forward.
His speed wasn’t particularly fast, but the angle was extremely dangerous.
His left hand lightly deflected Ryuga’s wrist, while his right leg slipped into the gap between Ryuga’s legs.
He lowered his center of gravity and delivered a light shoulder strike.
In a single breath, Ryuga felt his sense of gravity completely stolen away.
His entire body slammed heavily onto the wooden floor.
Before he could react, his right arm was twisted behind his back by Aizawa, and the teacher’s knee pressed firmly into the vital point between his shoulder blades, completely immobilizing his spinal cord.
“Center of gravity,” Aizawa whispered near his ear, applying just enough pressure to cause pain without injury.
“You’re too focused on the impact point and forget that the human body moves along the axis of the spine.
If you want to restrain an enemy stronger than yourself, you don’t need to break their arm.
You only need to seize control of their spinal axis.”
Aizawa released him and stepped back.
Ryuga slowly sat up, rubbing his reddened wrist.
A wild, calculating glint flashed in his pitch-black eyes.
In Ryuga’s mind, Aizawa’s lesson on “restraint” wasn’t merely hero technique.
He was secretly decoding it in the manner of a madman: Restraint was the foundation for the most efficient elimination.
If one could perfectly lock the opponent’s spinal axis so they couldn’t resist, then delivering a finishing blow afterward would be as easy as flipping one’s hand.
The subsequent training sessions turned into a race for knowledge.
Aizawa meticulously corrected every elbow angle and every foot placement whenever Ryuga applied CQC.
He taught him how to use leverage instead of pure brute force, and how to press two fingers under the jaw to force the opponent’s mouth open or break their focus for half a second.
In return, Ryuga absorbed everything like a sponge.
He possessed a sharp analytical mind.
Thanks to the systematic guidance of a veteran Pro Hero, the crude and clumsy fragments of Capoeira, Vovinam, and CQC in his head began to be refined and connected together with astonishing smoothness.
He started using the rhythmic, swaying cadence of Capoeira’s Ginga to deceive the opponent’s perception of distance, then suddenly closed the gap with Vovinam’s forward-receiving steps, finishing with a ruthless CQC joint lock.
Ryuga’s own specialized hybrid close-quarters combat skillset was gradually perfected day by day.
However, the boundary between a talented student and a battle-hardened Pro Hero remained an insurmountable mountain.
On the fourth training session, Ryuga decided to test the completeness of his skills.
He began with a Ginga step, his body swaying to create afterimages of motion.
Suddenly, he dropped low to the floor and unleashed a low hooking kick (a signature Capoeira sweep).
Aizawa didn’t flinch.
He lightly jumped just high enough to evade.
The instant Aizawa’s feet left the ground, Ryuga used the rotational momentum, planting both hands on the floor and launching his entire lower body into the air – a double-leg neck choke.
His ankles clamped tightly around Aizawa’s neck and shoulders, intending to use the mid-air twist to slam the teacher down.
It was a perfect combination, with not a single wasted movement!
Yet, the decades of real combat experience Aizawa Shota had accumulated in the darkness existed on an entirely different level.
The moment his neck was caught in Ryuga’s leg lock mid-air, Aizawa showed no panic or attempt to pry the legs away.
Even though Ryuga wasn’t using his Quirk, the heavy, piercing pressure in Aizawa’s gaze alone crushed his opponent’s spirit for a split second.
Instead of resisting Ryuga’s rotational force, Aizawa went with it.
He spun in mid-air to neutralize the torque while simultaneously grabbing Ryuga’s training uniform collar.
As both of them fell toward the floor, Aizawa used Ryuga’s own body weight and falling momentum to execute a counter Seoi-nage
CRACK!
THUD!
The gym floor trembled slightly.
Ryuga’s back slammed violently into the wooden surface, forcing all the air out of his lungs.
He lay flat on the floor, coughing violently, his vision blurring from the pain.
Aizawa landed neatly beside him.
At some point, the capture weapon on his arm had automatically wrapped around both of Ryuga’s wrists, sealing off any chance of resistance.
“Your technique has become much smoother, Onodera,” Aizawa said in a low, calm voice as he unwrapped the cloth.
“That leg choke earlier would have secured victory against a normal enemy or a student of the same level.
But you forgot one core principle: reading your opponent.
A true master doesn’t look at the incoming strike.
They read your eyes, the direction of your shoulders, and the shift in your center of gravity before you even launch the attack.
You have the technique, but your thinking is still too predictable.”
Ryuga lay on the floor, gasping for breath to restore oxygen to his body.
Staring up at the high ceiling of Gamma Gym, a faint, secretive smile crept across his lips.
He had lost.
He knew he couldn’t beat Aizawa at this stage.
The gap in survival time within the Hero world between a fifteen-year-old boy and a Pro Hero in his thirties was simply too enormous.
But Ryuga wasn’t disappointed in the slightest.
Defeating Aizawa in this training room had never been his goal.