Chapter 5 — The First Step of a Monster
The next day dawned quietly, cloaked in the gentle mist of early morning.
The world was still, as if holding its breath — birds yet to sing, wind yet to stir the leaves. The Todoroki household slumbered in silence, unaware that one of its youngest had already begun his battle.
Aoi was awake.
He stood in the dim light of dawn, dressed in a simple training outfit. His hair, deep blue like the ocean under moonlight, clung to his forehead, already damp with anticipation. His eyes, sharp and bright, reflected not the innocence of a child, but the determination of someone reborn with a mission.
Every step he took echoed with quiet resolve. He wasn't sneaking — no, he walked with purpose. Toward the backyard — the neglected patch of dirt and old trees behind the house, the place no one cared about. A forgotten place for a forgotten child.
But for Aoi, it would be a sanctuary. His temple.
"This is where I begin," he whispered.
He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut, and reached into the well of memories that belonged to another life. A life filled with late-night anime marathons, training arcs, epic battles, and unrelenting struggle.
Baki.
Yujiro.
Garp.
Saitama.
They didn't rely on magic. They didn't have systems. They broke their bodies. Bled. Cried. Fought. And rose stronger, again and again.
Push-ups. Pull-ups. Running. Punches on tree trunks. Blood on knuckles. Broken bodies. Spirits forged in flame.
Aoi smiled faintly.
"No tricks. No quirks. Just will."
He got into position. The dirt was cold under his palms. The air bit at his skin.
And he began.
Ten push-ups.
Ten sit-ups.
Ten squats.
Ten punches against a thick tree.
His small fists struck bark. Once. Twice. Again. He felt the sting immediately. The rough bite of the wood scraping skin. The shock running up his arms.
Then… start again.
At first, his body moved easily. His previous life had been full of theory — and now, he would test it in flesh.
But pain came quickly.
His arms began to shake. His breath grew uneven. The morning chill seeped into his bones. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. His chest felt like it had swallowed fire — raw, intense, relentless.
"This isn't like anime…" he muttered, gasping. "It's real. Brutal."
But just when his limbs threatened to give way, when his muscles cried for mercy — the flames came.
Soft, blue. Gentle like warm waves. They curled around him, mending what was broken, easing what was worn.
It didn't erase the pain — but it made him rise again.
Another round. Then another. Then another.
Fall. Heal. Rise. Repeat.
His breath was harsh, his knuckles red and raw. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
He wasn't chasing anyone else's dream.
He was forging his own.
---
Meanwhile, inside the house, Rei Todoroki stirred. She was used to waking early — habit formed from years of caring for children and shouldering silent burdens.
As she passed the veranda, a faint sound drifted through the air.
Rhythmic. Harsh. Labored breathing. Thuds. Grunts.
She paused.
Something pulled her — a mother's instinct. She followed the noise, turning the corner of the house slowly.
And froze.
There, in the pale light of morning, was her son.
Aoi. Alone. Shirt damp. Knees covered in dirt. Fists bruised. Yet he moved with a fire in his eyes. Not reckless. Not lost. But full of purpose.
He struck the tree again, breathing hard, then dropped for another round of push-ups.
She brought a hand to her lips, heart tightening.
"Should I stop him? He'll get hurt…"
But something in his expression held her still.
It was the way he smiled through the pain.
The way he trembled but didn't break.
The way he kept going — not because anyone asked him to, but because he chose to.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
She wanted to run to him, wrap him in her arms, beg him to rest.
But she didn't.
Because this… this was his path.
She lowered her gaze, wiping a tear with her sleeve, and whispered:
"So this is your path, my son..."
With a final look, she turned back inside.
She couldn't stop the world from hurting him.
But she could be the home he returned to when wounded.
The place that gave him strength in silence.
---
Back in the yard, Aoi collapsed to his knees.
His chest heaved. His hands shook. Every joint screamed.
But his eyes burned with triumph.
"Hahaha… I did more. Every time I try again, I feel it — my body adapts. My bones, my muscles, my skin… they're growing stronger."
He clenched his fist. Blue flames flickered, wrapping around him like a gentle storm.
"I don't need a system.
I don't need cheats.
I just need… to keep going.
To train. To break. To grow."
A memory surfaced — a quote he held close.
"Like Kurogane Ikki from Rakudai no Kishi said:
For a mediocre person to surpass a genius… he must become a demon."
The flames twirled, healing every bruise and tear.
Aoi stood again, fists tight.
"With this quirk… I'll train until I reach the top of the world."
---