Their footsteps echoed softly as they moved through the quieter wing of Tartarus.
Rei walked half a step behind Aizawa, hands bound in front of him by the quirk-restricting cuffs. He didn't ask where they were going right away. But as the silence stretched, and the turns grew unfamiliar, curiosity edged in.
"…Where are we going?" he finally asked, voice low but steady.
Aizawa didn't slow his pace. "Quirk training."
That made Rei's steps falter just slightly. He didn't stop—just glanced toward Aizawa's back, then back to the corridor ahead.
He hadn't expected that.
Not today. Not like this.
They rounded one last corner, and a thick, reinforced door stood ahead of them. It looked newer than the others—polished edges, clean lines, a security panel mounted beside it.
The guard escorting them stepped forward and tapped in a code. The door unlocked with a mechanical click and slid open.
The space beyond was quiet, brightly lit, and clean. Not sterile, but clearly prepared. Padded flooring. Reinforced walls. A high strip of mirrored glass ran across one side—an observation window, most likely.
No cages. No command consoles. No restraints waiting in the corner.
Just space.
Aizawa walked in without pause. Rei hesitated at the threshold.
The guard gave a quick glance toward Aizawa. "Sir, you're certain—"
"I've got it," Aizawa said, not looking back.
The guard didn't argue. He stepped forward, removed a small key from his belt, and crouched in front of Rei. The cuffs clicked open one after the other. The weight lifted from his wrists was more noticeable than Rei expected.
He rubbed the spot where the metal had pressed against his skin every day for five weeks.
The guard backed off, leaving quietly through the door. It shut with a solid hiss behind him.
Now it was just Rei and Aizawa.
The older man stood at the far side of the room, arms loosely crossed, eyes unreadable but not cold.
Rei slowly stepped forward, gaze flicking across the room.
"You're not going to tell me what to do?" he asked, still standing near the edge.
"I will," Aizawa said, "but not like you're used to."
That answer didn't make Rei feel better. But he nodded once and stepped further in.
"Why now?" he asked. "The quirk. Why let me use it?"
"Because you've shown you can handle structure," Aizawa replied. "Now I need to see if you can handle freedom. Even in small pieces."
Rei's fingers twitched slightly.
"…What do I do?"
Aizawa's voice was even. Calm. "Summon one hand. That's all. One Ghost Hand. And then dismiss it."
"That's it?" Rei slightly narrowed his eyes, a little confused.
Aizawa gave a calm nod. "That's it."
No shouting. No threat behind the words. Just instruction. Plain and simple.
Rei looked at his hand, hesitated for a second, then extended it.
The ghostly hand formed with ease—a pale, translucent projection that hovered steadily in front of him. The edges shimmered faintly in the light. It made no sound, cast no shadow.
He watched it closely.
Then, at his command, it vanished—silent as breath.
"…Huh," Rei murmured.
Aizawa spoke again, voice even. "How'd it feel?"
Rei looked down at his fingers, flexing them once. "Normal. I didn't have to think too hard."
"Good," Aizawa said. "We'll keep going."
Rei blinked. "Right now?"
"You've still got time today. Let's not waste it."
Rei nodded.
Aizawa stepped back, motioning toward a taped-off space in the center of the room—simple lines drawn on the floor. "Keep your ghost hands inside that box. Try summoning two at once. One left, one right."
Rei moved forward. He stepped into the square and lifted his arms, slowly. The cuffs were gone, but the weight of them still lingered in his awareness, like phantom pressure.
He focused.
Two shimmering hands sprang into being—one on either side. They hovered in the air, motionless, waiting.
"Good," Aizawa said. "Now hold them steady."
Rei concentrated. A flicker of instability jittered through the left hand—its edges wavered, lost shape for a second—but he adjusted. It steadied again.
Aizawa made a faint sound, barely a hum. "Keep going."
He gave more instructions. Move the hands apart. Bring them together. Make them rotate. Make one push forward while the other pulled back. It wasn't hard—not for Rei—but it wasn't exactly natural either. Not yet.
Every action took thought. Every correction, focus.
By the end of the session, his head ached more than his arms.
He let the hands vanish again, and his shoulders slumped slightly. Not from exhaustion. Just the quiet drain of effort.
Aizawa checked the clock on the wall. "We'll stop there for today. We'll train your control tomorrow."
Rei didn't argue.
The next day, they met in the same training room. Same white walls, same flickering overhead lights. The lines on the floor hadn't moved. Neither had the quiet weight of the space.
Rei stood calmly in the center, hands relaxed at his sides. His cuffs had been removed a minute ago—he didn't even glance at them this time.
Aizawa faced him with his usual unreadable expression, arms crossed.
"This time," Aizawa said, "we look at how many ghost hands you can handle. Maybe increase that amount."
Rei gave a simple nod. "Mhm…"
His face remained still, but there was something behind the eyes—a flicker of interest, a quiet readiness. This wasn't like the dull, repetitive labor he'd been doing for weeks. This was new.
Controlled. Focused.
"If all goes well," Aizawa continued, "I'll teach you a new technique."
That caught Rei's attention. His eyes lifted, just slightly.
"A technique?"
Aizawa gave a small nod. "You're not here just to repeat the past. The goal is growth. Control.
Learning what this quirk can really do."
Rei took a breath. "Alright. I'll try."
"Good. Start with two hands like before. Then increase them one at a time. Stop if it gets unstable."
Rei stepped into the taped square again and held out both arms. The first two ghostly hands appeared with practiced ease—smooth, stable, no flicker.
Then he focused.
A third appeared—just above his shoulder. The edges of all three flickered for a moment, like static trying to stabilize, but they held.
A fourth one came with increased effort. This one wavered and distorted, the fingers blurring for a second before Rei pulled them into shape with sheer will.
He paused, breathing slow through his nose. His brow furrowed with focus.
"Four," he said quietly.
Aizawa observed carefully. "Keep them up. Now try moving the top two."
Rei shifted them. It wasn't smooth—but they moved, little by little.
"Pain?" Aizawa asked.
Rei shook his head. "No. Just… pressure. Like trying to hold too many things at once."
"Good description," Aizawa said. "Take a few seconds. Then see if you can summon a fifth."
Rei exhaled slowly. His eyes narrowed with concentration. A fifth hand flickered to life—briefly warped, like smoke struggling to take shape—but it disappeared in a few seconds.
All four hovered in the air around him like strange, translucent extensions of himself.
His arms didn't move, but his eyes did—scanning each one, adjusting, balancing.
Then, after fifteen seconds, they faded one by one.
He shook his hands out and let his shoulders drop.
"…That's the most I've done before," Rei admitted quietly.
Aizawa's reply came steady and calm. "And now we know you can do it again. You're improving."
Rei didn't smile, but there was a quiet sense of pride in his posture. A subtle lift in the chin. A steadier breath.
Aizawa stepped forward.
"Let's take a break. Then I'll show you the technique."
After a short break—some water, a moment of quiet, and a brief check-in—they returned to the center of the training room.
Same floor. Same silence.
Rei stepped into place without being asked. His steps were quiet, but sure.
Aizawa followed, arms crossed as he came to a stop a few feet away.
"Alright, Rei," he said, voice calm and even. "You know my main weapon, don't you?"
Rei nodded without hesitation.
"Your scarf. Made from a steel wire alloy woven with carbon nanofibers." He recited it like a fact from a textbook—precise, practiced. But there was a flicker of pride in his voice. A quiet hint that he'd remembered it on purpose.
Aizawa gave a short grunt of acknowledgment. "Correct."
He paused just long enough to let that settle.
"Your quirk and my scarf are quite similar in potential usage."
Rei blinked, not responding right away. His eyes narrowed slightly—not out of confusion, but focus.
He was already working the idea over in his head.
Aizawa continued.
"You have extra limbs. Extra reach. Ghost hands that can wrap, grab, lift, pull."
He lifted his scarf slightly, letting it unspool a few feet from his hand before letting it fall.
"My scarf is no good for brute force. It's built for restraint. For control. Your quirk might not be identical, but the core idea is the same. You don't need to beat someone into the ground to stop them."
Rei's eyes stayed on the floor for a moment, thoughtful. Then he looked up.
"So… not just smashing things."
"Exactly." Aizawa's voice was firm. "You've already proven you're capable of force. But real strength lies in control. The best way to win a fight is to end it before it begins. If you can stop someone without hurting them, you win twice."
Rei slowly nodded, the gears turning behind his eyes. "I see…"
There wasn't awe or excitement in his tone. Just steady understanding. A small shift in perspective—subtle, but meaningful.
Aizawa stepped back and gestured toward the open space.
"Let's try a technique based on that. A simple bind."
Rei's posture straightened.
"Use two hands. Think like the scarf. One wraps low. One wraps high. Secure both arms. Don't squeeze. Just hold."
Rei took a breath. Closed his eyes for a second. Then extended both hands forward.
Two ghostly limbs shot out from behind his shoulders—fluid and controlled. One curved low, circling an imaginary opponent's legs. The other went high, wrapping behind what would've been their elbows or biceps.
The positioning wasn't perfect—but it was close. Clean.
Aizawa gave a small nod. "Good. Adjust the angle on the upper one. Don't let it push the target forward—pull back."
Rei shifted it with a flick of his fingers. The hand retracted slightly, then tightened its invisible grip behind the imaginary figure.
He held it steady for several seconds.
Aizawa stepped in slowly, motioning for Rei to release. The hands faded away without a sound.
"That's the idea," Aizawa said.
Rei looked up again. This time, there was something a little different in his expression.
Determination—but also understanding.
Purpose.
"I want to try again," he said quietly.
Aizawa nodded once. "Good. Let's keep going."
After many more tries, the motions began to settle into Rei's muscle memory. His ghost hands no longer jerked or stalled—they moved with smoother precision, circling and securing the invisible target with quiet confidence. Each repetition felt less like effort and more like instinct.
His breathing steadied. His gaze sharpened.
"That's a good start," Aizawa said after another successful bind. He stepped back and let the silence hang just long enough to mark the transition. "Now let's try something different."
Rei drew his hands back toward himself, and the ghostly limbs hovered just behind his shoulders.
This time, they didn't vanish. They lingered—floating, semi-transparent and waiting like obedient extensions of his will.
He didn't need to be told to keep them ready.
Aizawa reached into the small satchel he'd placed on the nearby bench and pulled out three objects—smooth, palm-sized spheres made of dense rubber. They looked like modified training tools. He rolled one in his hand before speaking.
"I throw objects into the air," he explained. "You catch them using your ghost hands. Don't swat them. Don't knock them down. Grab and hold. Got it?"
Rei nodded once, focused. "Yes."
"Good," Aizawa said, and with that, tossed the first object.
It arced high—an easy, slow toss. Rei's right-side ghost hand flicked upward and caught it mid-air, the translucent fingers curling around it with a soft snap of motion.
Held. No wobble. No drop.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Another toss—this time from the left, slightly faster. Rei responded with the opposite hand, intercepting it cleanly.
Then the third came almost immediately after, higher and at an odd angle.
Rei's eyes tracked it—and for a second, it seemed like he'd hesitate. But then both ghost hands moved at once. One caught the new object. The other adjusted its grip on the first.
Two hands. Two held spheres. No falter.
Aizawa gave a small grunt of approval. "Not bad."
Rei let the objects drop into his real hands and waited for the next cue.
The air between them felt different now—less like teacher and test subject, more like teacher and… trainee.
He was getting it. Not just the movements—but the mindset.