MHA - HARDCOIL

Dante woke up surprisingly rejuvenated, he didn't feel like complete garbage as usual. Despite sleeping on a rooftop with nothing but a tarp and his bag for comfort, his body felt light. Energized. It was the best sleep he'd had since… well, a while.

As per usual, his stomach growled, but he knew why. He actually had plenty of food now.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes before pulling the bag closer. Today he was going to need plenty of energy. And even if he ran out of food, that Bakugo kid sure was stacked so he still had plenty of cash.

Tearing open some instant ramen, he poured some cold water into the container and set it aside to soak, it wouldn't taste as nice without hot water but It would do. In the meantime, he ripped into a sandwich, savouring every bite. Soft bread, actual protein and something that didn't taste like stale cardboard—he almost cried in relief.

One sandwich, then another. Then some rice balls. He wasn't eating to satisfy hunger. He was fueling up. His quirk used calories like crazy and if he wanted results he'd need to start treating his body like a machine. A well fed machine.

By the time he'd finished, he felt more than full. Which was a strange feeling after days of barely scraping by. But he didn't waste any time. It was time to get to work.

Dante rolled his cracked his knuckles and stepped into the middle of the rooftop where he'd scratched before. He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. His body felt strong, ready.

"Control?"

He flicked his right hand and the skin darkened, shifting as his fingers melted into a thick vicious mass. He tried to keep the shape stable without using the hardening aspect of his quirk, but—

Plop.

It lost form real fast, dripping into a useless puddle before his hand grew back.

He frowned, "Still? I guess I still have a hard time controlling the density I guess."

That was one of his issues. He could turn into sludge, but it wasn't stable at all. Right now, it was pretty much the same as turning his body into water trying to hold shape, it usually just collapsed with a rare success every now and again, but that barely lasted long enough for it to be useful.

He tried again. This time, he transformed his arm up to the elbow, keeping the structure solid. But when he moved it, it wobbled and splattered to the ground.

"Come on, man!"

Okay then. Different approach.

He shifted his arm again, but this time he used the second aspect of the quirk—the hardening.

The sludge took shape, he willed it to solidify. And immediately, a glossy dark red shell formed over the surface. Turning his entire forearm and hand into what looked like a jagged, obsidian-red blade.

Dante smirked, "That remains the same as before I guess."

He took a step back, then swung it. The hardened limb cut through the air smoothly, staying intact. He swung again, much faster and with more force, and it still held.

"Okay, so the sludge form is pretty much useless by itself unless I can find a way to control it like it's a part of my body. But, with the hardening, I can turn my body into a weapon."

He lessened the hardening and reshaped the hardened limb, morphing it into something else—he tried a spike, a club, the claw he had used before. The transformations were slow, clunky and his control was still kinda bad.

He tested different densities, trying to find a balance between flexibility and durability. Hardening slowed the movements since it made the limb heavier, but it gave him power. Raw sludge was way faster, but it was weak and unstable. He needed to find a way to merge them.

About an hour of failures later, he groaned, shaking out his sore arms. His quirk was draining him fast, even with the extra food.

"Okay let's leave that for now. Next up, how far can I stretch."

He took a deep breath and lifted his left arm. He let the sludge form completely, then he pulled.

It stretched. Barely, maybe an inch.

He clenched his jaw and focused harder, willing it to extend—

And then, his arm shot forwards, stretching nearly five feet before losing cohesion and snapping back.

Dante struggled from the recoil, breathing heavily. His heart pounded in his chest, and his whole body burned.

He smiled, "Well, that's progress… For later though, that hurt way too much."

He sat up, shook his head and quickly ate another sandwich before trying something else.

"Okay," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "Let's leave that for now since that nearly took out all of my calories, now I'll try something new that will probably help in the long run."

Everything else was fine, now the main problem was clear. It was that his sludge form collapsed too easily and could barely hold a shape by itself, his father could easily control it when he transformed, even enlarging himself and holding forms with little effort.

But for Dante, it was like trying to shape water with his bare hands. He knew that if he could control it, it would help him big time. But how the hell would he train control over something that instinctively fell apart after a few seconds?

He took a deep breath and rolled his wrist. Maybe it was because he was trying to start big. Swords, spikes, clubs—they were all too advanced for his sludge form by itself.

Yes, he could always harden it. But, what if he needed to stretch far to reach something? Or stretch to the top of a building and pull himself up, or even use it like a rope. The hardened form is only good for combat, he needed the sludge for more precise and fast movements and the overall ability to morph aswell could be improved by learning how to control its base.

And so, he needed to smart small, something simple.

A small cube.

Dante held out his palm, focusing. The skin darkened and melted, turning into sludge. He concentrated, trying to shape it into a perfect cube.

Drip.

It slopped over the sides of his hand, collapsing into an uneven lump on his palm before slithering back into his skin.

Dante exhaled through his nose. "Again."

Now, he did it a bit slower, focusing more on keeping the shape intact. He pictured a solid cube in his mind—flat edges, equal sides, no deformities. He felt the changes, the weight of his hand shifting.

It wobbled.

Then held for a moment.

Then it melted into an unrecognisable mess.

He sighed, "it's like trying to hold a sand castle together with my bare hands."

He clearly needed to do something different. Maybe trying to forge the shape into existence wasn't working because the sludge wasn't a solid. His body naturally resisted the idea of keeping a defined structure.

So he had to trick it somehow.

Instead of willing his hand into becoming sludge, he willed it to become a cube. Not shaping sludge to become a cube, but turning his hand into a cube, like the sludge wasn't important to the process.

His hand melted away, his palm stretched out, and for the briefest moment—

A cube.

It was small, slightly uneven, but it was there nonetheless.

His eyes lit up, "Wow, that actually worked? I was just talking nonsense…"

But the moment his concentration slipped, it lost form and splattered, but now he had something to work with.

He just needed to control it subconsciously. That was the key.

It wasn't about forcing his quirk, but it was about making his body accept these shapes as natural extensions of himself. Like moving a limb without thinking. Like breathing subconsciously.

He tried again. This time, he just thought of his hand turning into a cube like it was normal, like he'd been doing it his whole life. No hesitation.

And just like that, his palm widened, and this time, it held for even longer.

"Not bad at all." Dante grinned.

For the next hour, he kept shifting his hand between different simple shapes without using the hardening side of his quirk. He made a sphere. A flat disc. A prism. He didn't rush, nor did he force. He just let it happen.

And every time, it became a little easier.

He wasn't just learning how to use his quirk, but he was learning how to make it a part of him.

…

…

A while later, Dante wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat cross-legged on the rooftop, flipping open the book he had stolen from before, An introduction to combat. He already skimmed through most of it the first time he had practiced, not actually performing the moves but just reading. But now he would move onto the next section, which covered the different styles of combat.

He flipped past the pages he had learnt from before, the ones that covered the basics. His eyes narrowing as he came across a section labeled [ Combat Disciplines & Their Applications. ] below the title, there were several page stamps, indicating where each fighting style was taught and where the next one started.

He read through them carefully.

Boxing - Focuses on powerful punches, head movement and footwork. Good for overwhelming opponents with speed and force.

Judo - A grappling style that uses the opponent's strength against them. Good for takedowns and close combat.

Muay Thai - Uses fists, elbows, knees and shins to strike from multiple angles. Known as the "Art of Eight Limbs."

Krav Maga - A brutal, no-nonsense fighting style that prioritises efficiency. Designed for real-world combat situations.

Taekwondo - A striking style that focusing mainly on kicks, using speed and flexibility to keep opponents at a distance.

Dante tapped his fingers against his lip, deep in thought. Each style had strengths but not all of them suited him.

"I should probably learn them all eventually, but I should focus on one to make it my main." Dante looked up to the sky, watching the sunset. "It would be best if I picked something that best suits my quirk."

"Judo's grappling would be horrible when my body turns to sludge. Boxing is good, but it's too limited, kicks are way too good to ignore."

His gaze lingered on Muay Thai and Krav Maga.

Muay Thai sure was versatile, using every one of his limbs into attacks. If he could utilise his quirk properly, turning each of these limbs to weapons while also knowing how to use them effectively would be completely unstoppable during close combat.

Krav Maga however, was pure efficiency, breaking joints, targeting weak spots and making sure fights ended fast. Just how Dante likes it.

He didn't know what to pick, he scratched his head but nothing came to him.

Then, Dante just smirked, "Well I could always just mix them…"

He looked at the page stamps for each and flipped to their sections, eager to start learning.