MHA - HARDCOIL

Dante groaned and flipped his notebook shut.

His analysis made one thing clear, that was that his quirk clearly had potential. But potential didn't mean anything anything if he couldn't use it properly.

Dante reached into his bag and pulled out some more food he had packed: some convenience store bread, a couple of rice balls and a few bottles of water. Not exactly a feast but it would do for now.

Logically, he should definitely ration it. Who knew when he'd get his hands on more?

Buuuut… that was long term thinking.

Right now, he needed power.

He scarfed down the rice ball in seconds, barely even chewing before moving onto the next. His body needed calories to function and if his quirk was burning through energy, then he was going fuel the fire.

With every bite, he could almost feel his whole body absorbing the energy.

By the time he was finished, his stomach felt full, but his mind was already set in motion—back to work.

Dante stood up and rolled his shoulders.

This time, he wanted to control it.

Sludge manipulation—second attempt!!!

Dante focused on his hand like before, slowly willing the change.

His fingers darkened, melting into a thick, dark red mass of sludge. This time, he concentrated on keeping the structure intact.

"Come on… you got this, hold it together…"

The sludge wobbled and dripped a little bit but it didn't collapse. Encouraged, he tried to extend it outward, making it stretch like it was an elongated limb.

It held… for two seconds.

Then, with a funny sounding plop, it splattered onto the rooftop.

Dante cursed under his breath.

"Okay… again!"

He repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

Minutes turned into hours. The sun rose higher into the sky, beating down on him as he kept on pushing. His body ached and sweat was dripping all down his body, but he couldn't stop just yet.

The pattern was clear—his control sucked. He could transform, but maintaining a solid form was still rough and probably beyond him.

But then—progress!

After what felt like the hundredth attempt, something seemed to click within Dante.

This time, when the sludge extended, he focused on not on just making it longer but also making it denser.

And for the first time it held.

It wasn't perfect and the form still wavered but it didn't collapse immediately.

Dante grinned, sweat dripping down his face.

"Finally!" Dante cheered and looked up to the sky.

He flexed his fingers, retracting the sludge back into his body and returned his arm to its original state.

One step forward. A thousand more to go.

But that was okay, he'd get there eventually.

Dante jotted down his progress and sat down on the floor for a few minutes, just letting everything sink in.

He'd made progress. Small, but it was real progress.

Now? He was just tired. His limbs were heavy and his stomach was already empty again, and a dull headache itched his brain.

Well, lesson learned atleast. His quirk was seriously a glutton—it devoured calories like a black hole if he pushed it! If he wanted to keep training and pushing himself, he would need a constant supply of food.

Well that's a problem for later.

For now he just needed to rest.

And yes, the rooftop was as good a place as any.

Dante dragged himself to the corner where a vent jutted out, giving him some protection from the wind atleast, he lay on the floor with his bag behind his head.

Homeless and parentless.

Dante let out a chuckle, "seriously… and I was actually going to kill myself when my life could be this interesting?! Thank you Mr. Aizawa..!"

What would happen next? Would he become the villain like his father? Probably not.

Well he didn't know, but one thing was clear—it was his choice for once.

Dante closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under again.

He'd begin training again tomorrow and then stay here until he's caught, he can go down to the city and steal food if he's forced to, but with his quirk that should be fairly easy.

…

…

Dante woke up to the sound of distant traffic and the feeling of cold morning air once more. His body protested as he sat up—his limbs were stiff , his stomach empty and he was even starting to smell, having not showered in 2 days.

Dante stretched, then got straight to work.

His first day of training taught him two things.

1. His sludge form collapsed too easily, one slip in concentration and it would all just fall apart.

2. His hardening was unstable.

Sludge form—Third Attempt

Step One: Transform.

Dante focused on his arm again. The change was definitely way easier now, just by focusing on his arm his arm melted into a thick dark-red sludge, shifting between liquid and a solid.

Step Two: Maintain the structure.

Instead of just letting it just form into whatever it wanted, he actively tried to shape it to the shape of a hand, all while focusing on keeping its density.

He extended his arm forward—slower this time, focusing of keeping the sludge from collapsing

One second. Two. Three!

It held!

He clenched his larger monster like dark red fist—still somewhat sludge. It felt like part of him, but different? Less like a limb and more like something he was just controlling.

Dante gritted his teeth.

Good, but not enough.

Hardening Test—Second Attempt

If the sludge wasn't enough alone, he'd just reinforce it then!

He focused again, he pictured a shell forming over the shifting liquid. A think layer of hardened mass slowly creep up his arm, locking the sludge in place.

This time, when he flexed his fingers—it didn't break.

"It's working…"

But then—a crack.

The hardened layer crumbled and the sludge fell apart. His ark reformed back to normal, and he clenched his jaw with frustration.

It still wasn't strong enough!

Dante exhaled sharply, shaking out his hands.

"Oh well, all I can do is keep going."

Dante repeated the process.

Again.

And again!!!!

Each time, the hardening layer would last a little longer. Each time, the sludge held its shape a little better.

His hunger gnawed at him. His muscles burned and his body begged him to stop.

But you know what!

His body could go fuck itself! Dante didn't care one bit. He was used to being overworked anyways, and this was the one thing he had over other people.

No one else has his quirk, so if he finds a way to make it so much stronger, so overwhelmingly strong that no one could control him ever again.

Dante growled and pushed forward, ignoring the burning in his muscles and the emptiness in his stomach.

His mind was sharp, probable the sharpest of anyone his age, he analysed every failure and every crack in his hardened control. He analysed every weakness in his control.

Why does the sludge collapse?

- It's too loose. No density, no structure.

Why does the hardening break?

- It's too thin and weak. more like a layer of glass than actual reinforcement.

Dante wanted to fix both.

His body kept screaming for a break but Dante would again shove the exhaustion aside. One. More. Time.

Sludge Form/Manipulation—Fourth Attempt

This time, Dante imagined the sludge not as some formless mass, but as a muscle. A limb with tension, with actual individual strength.

He didn't even need to fully focus on his arm now, just thinking about changing and his arm shifted, melting into dark sludge and molding into the shape of a large claw.

"Now, hold."

Dante clenched his transformed fist/claw, and thankfully it stayed solid.

He exhaled, steadying himself.

Hardening—Third Attempt

Dante thought deeply about this during his small break, and he may have come up with a solution to his problem.

Instead of just coating the outside, he let the hardening spread throughout the sludge.

He layered it, reinforcing the structured claw from the inside out.

His arm, still sludge, hardened! This time, it didn't just create a brittle shell—it became one solid mass.

Dante smirked, the claw wasn't exactly sharp but it was way larger and scarier than his other hand.

He swung his hardened sludge claw into the rooftops concrete floor.

CRACK!

A large scratch mark spanning one meter in length along with a dent formed where he had scratched. It wasn't too deep, but it was enough.

Just the sight of the claw should be enough to intimidate any low level thugs that tried to bother him anyways.

Dante uncoiled his fingers, retracting the sludge back into his body, watching as his hand slowly returned from a monstrous claw to a normal childish hand.

He was getting there!

It still wasn't perfect. It was still unstable. But it was definitely working, that's for sure.

"Ah shit."

Then it hit him.

His head spun, his stomach clenched and his body felt heavy.

Every last one of the calories he had consumed had been burnt.

His quirk had devoured every last ounce of energy he had left, and now his body was fully shutting down.

Dante collapsed onto his knees, gripping his side.

This power… it needed fuel.

Without food, without sustenance, he was weak.

He let out a dry laugh.

"I should probably eat."

He opened his bag and slowly ate the remaining rice ball and piece of bread.

For now, he was barely okay.

But there was a bigger problem.

Where the hell was he gonna find food now?

Dante shook his head, "I'll worry about that tomorrow…"

He only barely ate enough food, just enough to stop the dizziness, just enough to function.

He pulled out his notebook, slowly flipped to the next blank page. His hand trembled slightly as he wrote, exhaustion creeping into his muscles.

"Why actually is control so hard?"

It didn't make sense to him, he saw literal children using their quirks effortlessly, like a second nature.

Meanwhile, he had to actually force his body to listen, he had to struggle just to keep it from falling apart.

Dante tapped the pen against the page, thinking.

Was it because he wasn't used to it maybe?

Nah, it was something deeper than that.

Maybe…

"What if it's because this isn't technically my body?"

His grip on the pen tightened.

Quirks weren't just powers, but they were tied to biology. Everyone's quirk was suited just for them, for their bodies natural structure.

And this wasn't even his body.

This was Dante Graves.

With that thought, his skin began to crawl, he looked at his arm and the red ball beneath his skin return.

Dante's gaze hardened, "It's back?"

"Ah I see." Dante giggled as he looked at the skin.

"I am Dante Graves." He muttered, and with that, the sensation dissipated.

Dante rubbed the skin where it had appeared with a somber smile, "I guess you're there to keep me in check, weird random red thing beneath my skin."

Dante coughed and got back to work.

Maybe this quirk—whatever it was supposed to be—wasn't even meant for him?

And maybe the original Dante's quirk was something much simpler.

"Maybe his quirk was something like just liquidisation or something?"

A basic quirk. No complexity, no real power. Just turning into sludge.

But now he had it.

And he wasn't like the original Dante, he was smart. He was better.

So maybe the quirk adjusted to this change, evolving from something mediocre to something better suited to me.

Dante grinned, he was going to make it so much more.

Something better.

He let out a quiet breath, closing his notebook.

The air was cold, and his mind was burning.

Tomorrow, he was going to push ever further.