MHA - HARDCOIL

Dante went to the Muay Thai section first, carefully reading the contents of the page. It broke everything down to the fundamentals, stance, strikes and movement.

He stood up, adjusting his footing into the stance described: feet shoulder-width apart, lead foot slightly forward, knees relaxed. He raised his arms, elbows tucked in, hands guarding the face.

"Okay. Hands up, chin down."

The first technique, the teep, or front kick, was a stable of Muay Thai. It was used to keep distance, disrupt an opponent's balance or set up more powerful stances.

He lifted his knee, extended his foot and thrust forward.

He was sloppy at first. His balance was off and his kick lacked power. But in true Dante fashion,

He tried again.

And again.

And again.

After dozens of repetitions, his movements became more fluid.

He moved onto to roundhouse kicks. He had practiced these before, but just incase, he kept reading. Unlike the teep, the roundhouse kick was a devastating strike, using the shin instead of the foot to generate force.

He followed the instructions carefully. Twist the hips. Swing the leg in a full arc. Strike through the target.

He kicked the air with increasing force, even using his quirk to morph his leg from the knee down into a jagged blade to see if it moved faster.

His legs were starting to burn, so he moved on.

Next were the elbows and knees.

Elbow strikes were brutal. He practiced horizontal slashes, diagonal slashes and downwards elbows designed to crush an opponents skull. If he hardened his arms or increased his muscle mass with his quirk, these could absolutely be lethal.

Knees were equally as vicious. He drilled straight knees, imagining driving them into an opponents ribs, then switched to flying knees, but those still felt a bit strange.

His body was aching slightly, but he still had more to do.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and swiped to the Krav Maga section. This wasn't a martial art built for sport, instead it was for survival. Every move had a single goal : end the fight as fast as possible.

He read the very first principle, there are no rules.

It didn't matter how dirty the attack was. Gouging eyes, crushing throats, breaking bones… it was all fair game if it meant staying alive.

He started with targeting weak points.

Krav Maga emphasized hitting areas that couldn't be trained or strengthened under normal circumstances, like the eyes, throat, groin and joints. Perfect for Dante who had spent years being forced to analyse and memorise the anatomy of a human for biology lessons.

Eye gouges : one of the fastest way to disable someone. Dante followed the diagram, raising his hands as if to block, then snapping his fingers forwards in a vicious jab. He imagined ramming his fingers deep into an attackers eye, even using his quirk to sharpen his fingers for more damage.

Brutal.

He kept practicing, picking up speed, even changing the shape of his arms for optimal speed. This move was not about power, more about speed and precision.

Next was the throat strike.

A direct to the windpipe could leave an enemy gasping for air or even totally incapable of breathing at all. The book suggested two methods, a knife hand chop of a quick jab with the tips of his fingers.

Dante tried both, shadowing the movements with practiced ease. He imagined being in a fight, someone lunging at him with their fists swinging, he'd step in and slam his hand into their throat, crushing their airway in an instant.

He shuddered at the thought.

This wasn't honourable at all, this was pure killing intent. And Dante didn't mind that.

Next—groin kicks.

A devastating strike, no matter how tough the opponent. There was no blocking straight instinctual pain. Krav Maga didn't bother with fancy techniques, just simple, brutal snap kick aimed directly between the legs.

Dante practiced the motion, making sure to step in first to generate the most power. Over time and thanks to learning the basics of overall combat along with some Muay Thai, his kicks got sharper and more precise.

Now, it was time for joint destruction.

"Sounds evil," The book outlined knee kicks, simple yet absolutely crippling. A sharp strike to the side of the knee could shatter the joint, rendering an enemy unable to stand.

Dante practiced angling his foot just right, striking downward into an imaginary leg. He could feel the effectiveness of the move, it took almost to strength to completely ruin someone's stance.

Finally, he moved onto disarms and counters.

Krav Maga wasn't just about attacking, apparently it also taught quick and efficient ways to halt an assault.

He drilled wrist escapes, practicing how to twist out of different grips with minimal effort. Instead trying to overpower an opponent, he used leverage to break free.

The book also detailed gun and knife disarms. While Dante had no weapon to practice with, he carefully memorised the steps, going through the motions in his head.

"So I just redirect the barrel, Control the weapon and attack immediately? Cool."

It all came down to speed. If an opponent had a weapon, hesitation meant death.

By the end of the session, Dante was drenched in sweat, but his mind was sharp.

More and more knowledge kept flying into his head and tomorrow, he'd fuse the two fighting styles and even incorporate his quirk in there too, but for now…

He needed some rest.

…

…

Not even 5 hours later, still late into the night…

Dante stirred awake thanks to the sound of hushed voices echoing through the night. His body was still a little bit stiff from training but something about the tone of the voices put him on edge.

Still half asleep, he blinked away the fatigue and peered over the edge of the rooftop.

Down below, hidden in the alleyway, were a group of people.

At least five of them, all shrouded in darkness, talking in low, urgent whispers. Their postures were tense, shifting restlessly as they exhanged something between them. One of them, a lanky man with a jagged scar across his cheek, was holding what looked like a bag of cash.

"Some kind of deal?" Dante muttered beneath his breath.

His heart pounded. He didn't have an interest in whatever illegal was going on, but he knew he didn't want to be caught watching.

*CRACK.*

A loose piece of concrete crumbled under his weight.

The chatter below stopped instantly.

He froze

"Shit."

All at once, the men turned their heads upward.

Dante held his breath, pressing himself against the cold rooftop surface as heavy footsteps approached. The people weren't stupid, they knew someone was up here.

From his hiding spot behind an old, rusted ventilation unit, he heard them muttering.

"Someone's been here."

He risked a glance. One of the men were crouched near the spot he had been sitting earlier, picking up an empty food wrapper. Another traced his fingers along the scratch in the floor he had created back when he was first testing his quirk.

Dante tensed. His bag was already slung over his back, packed full of his food, notebook and the combat book. It rustled every time he moved. Not just that, Dante knew he was going to need his quirk, so he had already scarfed down one sandwich and held a half eaten one in his hand. If they got close, surely they'd hear it.

"Search everywhere, we can't risk anyone knowing about our deal." The scarred man ordered.

Dante clenched his jaw. 'Time to go.'

With the precision of a wild animal, Dante shifted low and moved towards the opposite edge of the rooftop. But before he could slip away—

"Hey! There's someone over there!"

'Well, shit.'

They found him.

But Dante bolted.

He sprang over the ledge, dropping down into the alley below, rolling on impact to absorb the fall. He didn't stop, his feet pounded against the pavement as the group shouted behind him.

"Don't let the bastard get away!"

They scrambled after him, but Dante was fast.

His body moved unnaturally, weaving through alleys like he had lived in them his whole life. "I guess spending all day looking for that cats home was worth it after all." He muttered before ducking under a metal railing, slid across a stack of crates and vaulted over a rusted fence.

The men cursed as they struggled to keep up.

Dante smirked, then he heard the whistle of something slicing through the air.

'Incoming!'

His torso twisted unnaturally, like liquid. A metal pipe then crashed into the wall beside him, narrowly avoiding Dante's head. One of them men had thrown it like a javelin.

Dante was NOT about to get caught.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to do something very ballsy. He pulled back his right arm, the arm then suddenly morphed fully into a dark red sludge, flying up towards a fire escape ladder above.

Latch.

With the knowledge of the fact he can stretch, but with the downside of it retracting almost instantly, he used this to pull himself upwards instead of the arm flying back towards him.

He flung himself upward, his body twisting midair as he grabbed into the metal bars and swung himself up onto the rooftop.

The men skidded to a stop below, looking up in frustration.

"The hell—?!"

"Shit, the kid used his quirk."

"Damn it! Get up there!"

Dante wasted no time. He dashed across the rooftop, leaping to the next building that was thankfully quite close without hesitation. His movements were fluid, precise, like a cat slipping through the cracks of the city.

The men struggled to keep up. They were not as fast, and they definitely weren't as nimble.

But damn were they persistent!

One of them fired off a blast of energy from his mouth towards Dante, who barely managed to take cover behind a billboard on a nearby rooftop that then exploded.

Dante clicked his tongue. 'That's not fair, I would've loved a power like that!'

"Well fine, if you want to play dirty, I'll just make sure you don't have a way to follow."

He turned to the nearest wall of a taller building, took a deep breath and focused.

His legs dissolved for a brief moment, turning into some sort of sticky flowing current of liquid that surged up the wall, struggling to carry Dante with it.

The sludge carried Dante up the wall like a slug but only with the help of Dante using his quirk to transform his hands into some sort of ice axe to help him scale the building.

With all of this, Dante scaled the wall in seconds, reforming his legs as he pulled himself over the top.

Below, the men watched in disbelief.

"How the hell—?!"

"Forget it! We'll find him later!"

Dante didn't stop running though, he kept moving. Darting across rooftops, slipping through gaps, disappearing into the city.

Eventually, when he was sure they were gone, he stopped.

Panting, heart racing, he let out a small, breathless laugh.

"That was way too close. I'm never sleeping in the same spot for more than one night ever again, I'll have to stay here for the night."

Dante quickly ate one of his three protein bars just in case his body would shut down during the night due to overusing his quirk.

As much as Dante wanted to document everything that had just happened, he fell unconscious the moment he knew they were gone.