"Again."
Grandpa's voice cuts through my exhaustion like a knife. I'm lying face-down on the rooftop, tasting concrete and regretting every life choice that led me to this moment.
"I can't feel my legs,"
"Then you're not using enough electricity. Get up."
It's been a week since the Sports Festival announcement. A week of the most brutal training I've ever experienced, and considering my grandfather is Gran Torino, that's saying something.
I push myself up on shaking arms, electricity crackling weakly around my body. My voltage output has improved, not by much, but enough that I can sustain higher levels for longer periods. The problem is that "longer periods" still feels like trying to hold lightning in a bottle while running a marathon.
"Your control is getting better," Grandpa notes, circling me like a predator. "But you're still thinking too much. Lightning doesn't hesitate."
"Lightning also doesn't have to worry about accidentally killing its friends," I pant.
"Fair point. Again."
Before I can protest, he's moving. One second he's standing five feet away, the next he's behind me, his hand reaching for my shoulder. I react on instinct, spinning and releasing a controlled burst of electricity
He dodges easily, but nods approvingly. "Better. Your reaction time is improving."
"Thanks for the ringing endorsement."
"Don't get cocky. You're still too slow."
The rooftop door bursts open and Nejire bounces out, followed by Tamaki, who looks like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, and Mirio, who's grinning like this is the best day of his life.
"We brought snacks!" Nejire announces, holding up a bag from the convenience store. "And moral support!"
"And I brought myself!" Mirio adds cheerfully. "Which is basically the same thing!"
Grandpa looks at our impromptu training group with something that might be amusement. "More victims for the torture session?"
"Torture session?" Tamaki squeaks.
"He's exaggerating," I tell him. "It's more like controlled suffering with educational benefits."
"That's... not better."
"Welcome to training with Gran Torino," I say. "Leave your will to live at the door."
And just like that, our individual training becomes group hell.
—
"Focus your waves into a tighter spiral!" Grandpa shouts at Nejire as she hovers above us, energy crackling around her. "You're wasting power with that wide dispersal!"
She adjusts, and her waves immediately become more concentrated, more focused. The improvement is visible even to my untrained eye.
"Better! Now maintain that while moving!"
Nejire starts flying in complex patterns, her waves maintaining their tight spiral formation. It's actually pretty impressive—and definitely something that'll come in handy during the festival.
Meanwhile, Tamaki's working on rapid-fire transformations, switching between different animal traits he's consumed. Tentacles to claws to enhanced muscles, each change flowing smoother than the last.
"Faster!" Grandpa calls. "In a real fight, hesitation gets you killed!"
"I'm trying!" Tamaki protests, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Try harder!"
And Mirio... well, Mirio's having his own special kind of hell. Every time he tries to phase strategically, he accidentally phases through something essential. His shirt. His shoes. At one point, horrifyingly, his pants.
"MIRIO!" we all shout in unison as he quickly re-solidifies, thankfully clothed.
"Sorry! Sorry! Still working on the selective permeation!"
"Work faster!" Grandpa yells. "No one wants to see that during the Sports Festival!"
As for me? I'm getting my ass kicked in the traditional Gran Torino fashion. He's having me practice precision strikes while dodging his attacks, forcing me to use my electricity for both offense and enhanced reflexes simultaneously.
It's exhausting. It's brutal. It's probably illegal in several countries.
It's also working.
"Voltage is up another ten percent," Grandpa notes during a brief water break. "Not bad for a week of training."
"Only ten percent?" I wheeze.
"Ten percent improvement in a week is excellent. Most quirk users take months to see that kind of progress."
"Really?"
"Really. Though don't let it go to your head. You're still nowhere near your potential."
Encouraging as always.
"What about the rest of us?" Nejire asks, collapsing dramatically on the rooftop. "Are we improving too?"
Grandpa considers this. "Hado, your energy efficiency has improved significantly. You're getting more output with less fatigue. Amajiki, your transformation speed is faster, but you need to work on maintaining multiple changes simultaneously."
Tamaki nods seriously, already probably planning what to eat tomorrow.
"And Togata..." Grandpa pauses. "Stop phasing through your clothes."
"I'm trying!"
"Try harder."
—
By the second week, we've settled into a routine. School during the day, rooftop training hell in the evening. Rinse and repeat until we're all too tired to remember our own names.
But it's working. All of us are improving, some more visibly than others.
My voltage output has increased by about twenty percent total—not huge, but enough that I can maintain higher levels of electricity for longer periods. More importantly, my control has gotten way better. I can create more precise bolts, maintain partial transformations for extended periods, and my sensing abilities have expanded significantly.
Nejire's waves have become scarily efficient. She can maintain flight while simultaneously using offensive blasts, and her spiral formations are tight enough to drill through concrete. Her stamina has improved too—she's not getting winded nearly as quickly.
Tamaki's probably shown the most dramatic improvement. His transformations are faster, smoother, and he's started experimenting with combining different animal traits simultaneously. Yesterday he managed octopus tentacles with enhanced muscle density from beef. It was simultaneously impressive and slightly horrifying.
And Mirio... well, Mirio's still occasionally naked, but less frequently. Progress is progress.
"Final test," Grandpa announces on the last training day before the festival. "Free-for-all. Last person standing wins."
"All of us?" Nejire asks. "Against each other?"
"Against each other. No holds barred, but try not to kill anyone. The paperwork's murder."
We spread out across the rooftop, eyeing each other warily. This should be interesting.
"Begin!"
Chaos erupts immediately. Nejire takes to the air, raining down energy blasts. Tamaki transforms his arms into tentacles and tries to grab anyone within reach. Mirio phases through the initial wave of attacks, then immediately falls through the floor.
"MIRIO!" we hear from below.
"I'M OKAY!"
And me? I decide to go for the high-risk, high-reward strategy. I channel electricity through my entire body, enhancing my speed to Gran Torino levels, and start moving.
The world blurs around me as I dodge Nejire's aerial bombardment and slip past Tamaki's reaching tentacles. My enhanced reflexes let me predict their attacks, and for a moment, I feel like I'm actually keeping up with everyone.
Then Nejire catches me with a spiral blast that sends me skidding across the rooftop.
"Got you!" she laughs.
"Not yet!" I roll to my feet and launch a concentrated lightning bolt at her position.
She dodges, but the attack forces her to break her flight pattern. Tamaki takes advantage, extending tentacles to try and grab her out of the air.
Meanwhile, Mirio reappears—thankfully clothed—and immediately phases toward me. I try to counter with electricity, but you can't electrocute someone who's intangible.
The fight continues for about ten minutes, all of us using everything we've learned over the past two weeks. It's fast, chaotic, and probably the most fun I've had since starting at UA.
Eventually, we're all too exhausted to continue. We collapse in a pile on the rooftop, breathing hard and grinning like idiots.
"Not bad," Grandpa says, looking down at us. "You've all improved significantly. You might actually survive the Sports Festival."
"Might?" Tamaki squeaks.
"No guarantees. But you've got better odds than when we started."
High praise from Gran Torino.
"So," Nejire says, still lying flat on her back, "think we're ready?"
I consider this. My voltage output is higher. My control is better. My physical conditioning has improved dramatically. I can sense electrical signals more precisely and maintain partial transformations longer.
But am I ready for the Sports Festival? Ready to compete against the entire first-year class on live television while pro heroes judge my every move?
"Probably not," I admit. "But we're better than we were two weeks ago."
"That's the spirit!" Mirio says cheerfully. "Optimistic pessimism!"
"That's not a thing," Tamaki mutters.
"It is now!"
As we finally drag ourselves off the rooftop and head home, I can't help but feel... good about our chances. Not confident, exactly, but hopeful.
We've trained hard. We've improved. We work well together.
Tomorrow, the Sports Festival begins.
Time to find out if all this suffering was worth it.