Start Of The Journey (2)

I already knew the answer as soon as I asked the dojo owner if I could sign up. How? This was my seventh try on the dojos near my home.

"Sorry kid," the tall, blue-skinned man said as he shook his head, "But we run a pretty tight ship here. I can't afford to change the training so a Quirkless kid can join in without getting hurt. It just wouldn't be fair on my other students," he shrugged before standing and putting out his hand, "I really am sorry, kid, but you'll have to look somewhere else."

I wanted to frown at the hypocrisy but I refrained and plastered a fake smile across my face as I also stood and took the man's hand, "It's alright. Didn't hurt to try my luck though, did it?" I asked rhetorically before letting go of the hand and turning to leave. I would've said goodbye or been a bit more polite but after six other times where the exact same shit had happened, I was running low on my 'being polite' energy pool.

Hypocrisy, you might ask? Hypocrisy about being hurt. Everyone, Quirkless or not, is gonna get hurt to some degree in a spar where one or both combatants have superhuman abilities. I mean, what does a dude who can summon an electric aura around his hands have on a Quirkless person, physically? Nothing. No enhanced strength or speed, no enhanced durability and no enhanced reflexes. He could still get hurt when going up against someone with a strength enhancing Quirk yet he was allowed to join simply because he could make his hands sparkle.

It annoyed me. Actually, it made me angry. But being angry wasn't gonna do anything for me, was it? I could sit around all day and complain about the unfair nature of being Quirkless and being brushed off by other people at every opportunity. Yet all I'd get from that is feeling even more frustrated and it'd do absolutely nothing for me. If anything, it'd be a waste of time.

And I don't have any time *to* waste.

I walked out of the dojo's office and into the dojo itself. Most of the students were training, either on their own or with a partner, but one group of people looked at me with sneers and contempt. Of course there'd be a stereotypical group of bullies at a Karate dojo. Was this place called Cobra Kai and I just missed the name or something? Ignoring the group of snickering kids, I walked to the exit and picked up my jacket and slipped on my trainers before leaving the building and entering the bustling streets outside.

Pulling my phone out of my jacket, I looked up the nearest dojo from here and disregarded the ones I'd already been to. I found one not too far off, an MMA place. That'd make it the third one I'd visit today - maybe third time's the charm? I kept up a degree of optimism despite the pessimistic reality I'd been shown seven times before already.

Giving up now might be the worst decision I make. What if the next one was the one to take me in but I decided not to go because of a 'glass half empty' type of view? The 'what if' would eat away at me if I didn't know for sure.

Putting my phone away after looking at the directions toward my new destination, I looked up and something caught my eye across the street. An old man with a wooden cane, hunched over ever so slightly due to age but otherwise looking quite healthy and robust. His hair was grey from old age and his face was covered in a mixture of scars and wrinkles. He had two distinct scars on his forehead; one was a simple diagonal slash, the other was a criss-cross of two different scars. He felt oddly familiar but I've no clue why.

He looked me up and down inquisitively from across the street and his eyes widened a little before he smirked and lifted a hand to wave at me. Confused and a little freaked out, I looked around to see if he was waving to someone else - shit like that happens all the time. But no one replied to his gesture or even acknowledged his existence.

And when I turned back to look at him, he was gone.

...Okay, that's weird. God, ROB, whoever's listening: Please don't give me an old man stalker who can seemingly teleport.

Understandably unsettled, I turned in the direction of the MMA gym and started speed walking there. I'd occasionally feel like I was being watched but whenever I stopped to look around, I didn't notice anything other than people minding their own business.

Whether it was paranoia or actually something happening, I could feel myself getting slowly but surely more on edge. Like my mind was growing taut at a possible threat to my person. Heart hammering away in my chest, I ducked into a nearby alleyway and decided to wait because if someone really was following me they'd have to come through here and I'd see them. What would I do then? I hadn't thought that far. Just wanted to know whether my paranoia actually was just paranoia or if it was good instincts instead.

So, I waited a good few meters into the alleyway and tried my best to keep myself calm as could be. My heart felt like it was in my throat and then felt like it ceased beating when a group I recognized entered the alleyway. But then I calmed down when I saw them. Just the bullies from that last dojo.

Not a villain or an odd old man or both--just some teenagers like me who'd no doubt followed me to try and beat on me, the Quirkless kid who tried to join their dojo.

Shitty, sure, but far better than the terrible situation my instincts were convinced was gonna happen.

"Oi, Quirkless," the front man for the group of four sneered at me and his fiery orange eyes narrowed in derision, "You've got some nerve showing your talentless ass at MY dojo. What if the other dojos heard about us letting one of your kind into the building? Nobody'd take us seriously ever again!"

If there's one thing I'm certain is different about the 'Present Izuku' and the 'Past Izuku' is that the latter would've frozen up, stammered and stumbled over words. The former, however? I had no such problem...for the most part anyway. But for this instance? Not even a little.

"I'm struggling to take you guys serious right now, so I doubt any of the other dojos do," I cracked a smile and the fiery eyes of the one I'd answered which had been smoldering before were now literally leaking fire like a stove. Some sort of ocular Quirk? Definitely to do with fire as well. Question is, however, is if he can shoot them out as a heat ray or if it's purely aesthetic.

"Hiro, get the bastard," fiery-eyes said to Hiro who turned out to be one of the shorter people in the group of four. He must've been around 4 feet tall at most. I barely got a look at his face before he disappeared and reappeared right behind me which I only knew because I felt his hand on my back.

Then I appeared right in front of fiery-eyes and his Quirk definitely wasn't just for looks. I dropped to the floor, dodging the burst of heat and fire that shot out of the guys eyes. Jeez, was he actually trying to kill me? For what, me being Quirkless and backchatting him? Guy has problems. Even more than Bakugo which is definitely saying something.

I swept out with my leg like an ax heading for a tree, impacting the guy's legs with a crunching impact that completely took his feet out from under him. Turning to look behind me, I led with an elbow aimed at the teleporting midget that missed as he flickered back a few steps before flickering forward back to his original place with his hand reared back for a punch. I took the punch head on, noting the distinct lack of damage it did as I pushed forward and brought my elbow back to bash him across the jaw. He dropped like his legs stopped working but he was still conscious. Even conscious, I doubt he'll be able to stand properly for a few minutes.

My body felt fluid as it moved but the lack of muscle memory was slowing me down enough that one of the remaining four wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the ground. He was the biggest of the four and his tanned skin took on a metallic bronze look as he fell back and put me through a textbook suplex.

Head crushed against the stony ground below and the bronze arms holding me tight and pushing me down, I felt dazed but far from out of the fight and I flexed my deceptively strong arms and heard metal-arm-boy groan in pain as his arms themselves creaked under the force I was putting out.

How strong and durable am I??--

I was pulled from my thoughts by the last of the quartet rushed up to me and placed a hand against my chest. When I saw his hands, I nearly scoffed; Figures. His hands are coated in electricity. Is this karma for shitting on a Quirk like this before? I didn't get much time to think more than that as the arcs leapt of the guy's hand and onto my chest. My muscles seized up and tensed...which was oddly exactly what I needed.

Because when I spasmed so erratically and so strongly, I broke the hold of the metal-arm-boy. In a mad dash to stop the electrocution, I swung wildly at electric-hands and with a thud I knocked him away and into a nearby wall.

The groaning below me alerted me to the fact that electric-hands had shocked his buddy as well as me. And considering bronze-boy was in a transformed metallic state, he'd be much more conductive than me. A quick hit to the head knocked him out and I rolled off of him, panting a little after such intensive combat. Fighting Quirk users wasn't as easy as it sounded or looked. When meeting someone you didn't know, you had to be on edge *constantly* to avoid being caught with your pants down by their Quirk.

Just teleport-boy alone nearly gave me a heart attack when he appeared behind me.

Coughing into my hand, I wiped at my mouth before standing up. As intensive as it was, my stamina recovery seemed to be insanely high. Fiery-eyes who'd been downed since the start of the fight with a shattered leg finally had the energy to look at me, his eyes were filled with tears from the pain and said liquid seemed to impair his Quirk from functioning properly as he didn't take any pot-shots at me.

"You-urgh-You said you were Quirkless!" he yelled through the pain, pushing himself up from the ground, "Why did you lie?! You could've joined the dojo if you hadn't!"

I gave a tired smile, "Really? Can't accept you lost to a Quirkless guy?" I asked rhetorically before scoffing, "Get over yourself. You guys are just weaker than I am; I wouldn't need a Quirk to deal with you dickheads." I punctuated my sentence with a swift kick to the head that knocked him out. I'd rather not get heat ray'd in the back when I leave. Shaking my head, I thought about what fiery-eyes had said before scoffing again, "As if I'd ever need a Quirk to be strong."

I knew I was privileged. I'd mystically gained the genetics of five superhuman fighters. It set me ahead of the pack (for Quirkless, at least) by a wide margin. But to think a well-trained Quirkless person couldn't kick these guys' sorry asses? Just straight up ignorant. Especially considering this was an anime world...peak human anime body is superhuman in it's own right if you train enough.

"Ho oh," I heard a chuckle from behind me, stopping me in my tracks almost instantly, "I happen to think the exact same thing, brat. Quirks? Who needs 'em. If you ask me, Quirks have only made the youngsters nowadays all sorts of weak. Lacking foundation for their power, you see. Too much power given at such a young age...Haah, it makes my bones ache just thinking about it."

I turned as fast as I could to see the same man from earlier about two or three meters behind me and standing in between the four stooges I'd just knocked out. He scratched at the grey goatee on his lower face, appraising me with old but lively eyes, "I thought it when I first saw you but you really are built for Martial Arts. Good bones supporting good muscles and that back of yours...very good for punching. Hm," he hummed as he continued to scratch his chin, "I saw you come out of that little gimmick building that calls itself a dojo but I doubt you got in without a Quirk. How about you become my student? Haven't had a chance to pass on my martial arts yet and this old bag of bones doesn't have much time left, you see."

I heard what he said. I understood it. But I couldn't really pay attention to it because of the utter feeling of dread I felt this close to the old man. It was like being in a cage with a brown bear. An old one, sure, but even an old bear will maul you to death easily enough. My instincts were on fire, telling me to run but I stamped that out and stood my ground but even then I struggled to hold the man's gaze.

An animalistic suppression. Like what a deer feels when it sees a wolf. A deer doesn't need to be taught what a wolf is, it just knows and as I am now...this guy was a wolf and I was the deer. There were no two ways about it.

"...What do you want?" I asked with as even a voice as I could manage. Could it simply be that he wanted me as a disciple? Sure. But would it hurt to make sure? No. Fact of life; don't just accept strange offers off of old men at face value.

"Eh? Are you hard of hearing or somethin'?" he asked before seemingly realizing something and continuing, "DO YOU WANNA BE MY DISCIPLE?!" he yelled really loud and enunciated every word slowly.

Furrowing my brows, I held up my hand and shook it back and forth, "I'm not deaf. Just...asking if I wanna be your disciple is a bit out of nowhere, right? I can't be the weird one for thinking that, right?" I mumbled the last part more to myself than to him but he seemed to pick up on it nonetheless as he laughed in response.

"Ah well, I can understand that. But as a dying old man you can't expect me to go through all the social pleasantries can you, brat? Where's your respect for your elders, huh?!" he said heatedly but the pressure he was giving off had relaxed significantly telling me he really wasn't that pissed.

I'd definitely know if he was. That's for sure.

Sporting a no doubt incredulous expression, I tried to overlap the image of 'dying old man' he was trying to sell me and the aura of an 'apex fighter' I'd felt first hand, "Putting out aura like that and you claim to be dying? Jeez, I'd hate to see what you were like a few decades ago," in my nervousness I let my mouth run a little. Bad habit of mine, I guess.

But the old man took no offence and even seemed to preen at the compliment, "And don't you forget it! What's your name, brat?"

Despite feeling a little hesitance, I still replied honestly - God/ROB knows what'd happen if he found out I was lying - "Izuku Midoriya."

"Izuku Midoriya*," he said slowly as if feeling how the name sounded through his own mouth, "A nice name," he admitted before taking a step forward. His cane noisily hit against the ground below and made my wonder how he'd managed to sneak up behind me so silently. When he finally stopped in front of me, I got an understanding of our height difference; I was still around 5'5" while this old man, even hunched, was a head taller than me. Then he stuck a hand out and I nearly jumped out of my skin, "I'm Mukaku Gaoh. So, wanna be my disciple?" he smiled a wide and grandfatherly smile but I was too stunned to reply instantly.

(*A/n - If you haven't already guessed, I'm writing given names first and then surnames second. It just makes it less confusing for me when I write. Oh and for those worried about his height despite what I said in the last chapter; Bloody hell guys, give him a chance to grow a little. He's 15 and he's only just gained the genes which will turn him into an Adonis. Have some patience~~)

Mukaku Gaoh. The creator of the Niko Style and the last master of the Gaoh Style. A character from the Kenganverse, just like the five templates I'd gained earlier today. Does...does this mean other people from Kenganverse are--No. It doesn't. One character doesn't mean everything is here. Doesn't mean the Inside is here either. Or Worm. The fact he said he hasn't passed on his martial arts yet proves that much...if he's telling the truth. Let's play it safe and assume he is but be prepared for it if he isn't.

But if he really is like the Mukaku Gaoh I know of, then he's a martial master. A genius who made one of, if not the most versatile martial arts around. A martial art that encompasses every major aspect of fighting from striking, to submissions, to movement and to power flow control. Absentmindedly, I took his hand and shook it, meeting his eyes as I did. I had to be sure.

"What's your martial art style called, Gaoh-jiisan?" I asked with a suddenly dry mouth. If I was right, then this was my ticket to getting somewhere. I had everything I could ever need in terms of physical potential and I'd thought I'd be hard-pressed to find something technique-wise that could match it. But if the answer I thought he was going to give was what I assumed, I'd be set. On the inside I felt ecstatic but I forced it down in case I was wrong.

But I wasn't.

Gaoh-jiisan smiled wide as he gripped my hand tightly, "It's name? Niko Style, brat, and don't you ever forget it because it's the strongest style around! Wanna be my disciple after hearing that?"

I knew I should say no, consequences be damned. I didn't know the old man. Foreknowledge or not, little was known about his personality either way. He could be in it to kill me. Could be a villain in disguise. Could have one of many innumerable reasons to fuck me over for his own benefit.

But...

"Strongest style, huh?" I met his smile with one of my own and gripped his hand back just as tight, "I was looking for just that exact thing, Gaoh-jiisan! I'm in!"

He boisterously laughed at that and I joined in with my own joyful laugh. All of me was happy that even after being disdained and pitied by heroes I'd idolized, there was still someone out there who saw potential in me. It was a nice feeling - that and the fact I got to learn a superhuman martial art. Pretty eventful but productive day, all things considered.

Little did I know how great my run-in with this old man would turn out for me. And eventful. So goddamn amazingly eventful.