MHA: Harder Better Faster Stronger

After class, I went back to my room and took a bath.

I filled it up to my chest and just sat there, letting the heat soak in. My legs were sore from earlier—guess I pushed a little too hard during those sprints.

"Alright," I muttered. "Let's try this again."

I closed my eyes and leaned back, breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth. Slow and steady, just like I'd been practicing.

As I kept breathing, that warmth started to build up again. It started in my chest, then slowly spread across my shoulders, arms, legs, and whole body.

But after maybe thirty seconds, it just cut off.

My body slumped forward a bit. I lost the rhythm. The warmth disappeared.

"Is it just exhausting to use?" I said quietly. "Or am I just bad at keeping control...?"

I stayed in the water a little longer, breathing normally, waiting for my heart to slow down. I didn't try again. My head felt kind of floaty.

After I got out and changed, I heard Mom's voice from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"

I threw on some clothes and headed out.

At the table, Dad asked, "How was school?"

"Same as always. Things are normal again. Aizawa-sensei said the Sports Festival's coming up, though."

"Oh, already?" Mom said, scooping rice into bowls.

"So," Dad said, "think you can take first place? Or is there someone in your class stronger than you?"

"I can win," I said. "I think I'm the strongest in our class."

Mom sat down beside us and smiled a little. "You excited?"

I shrugged.

"You don't have to win, you know," she said. "Just… enjoy it. That's all we want."

I didn't answer. Just picked up my chopsticks. Took a bite.

Then Dad asked, "Figure out anything about that healing quirk you mentioned?"

"I'm still testing it," I said. "But yeah... it does seem to have some minor healing effects."

I didn't say more than that. because I still didn't fully understand what I was dealing with.

---

The next week was packed with practical training to prepare for the U.A. Sports Festival. I increased my usual workouts by about 20% and started experimenting more seriously with this new power.

At first, it was just breathing. Basic meditation stuff. I'd sit cross-legged in the garage, just... breathe. In, out. In, out. Slow and steady. After holding that state for like 40 seconds, I'd start feeling that same fatigue again. So I started doing it every night.

Once I got used to it, I mixed it into my regular training. When I ran, I matched my breathing to my steps. Same during strength workouts—inhale when lifting, exhale slow on the way down.

As I kept practicing, my stamina got better. Bruises faded quicker. I could stay locked in during drills longer. My body felt sharper. Stronger.

I decided to call the technique Hamon 'cause it moved through me like ripples in water. The more I practiced, the further it spread. I felt it in my punches, in my jumps... even how I landed. It didn't just help with injuries—it boosted everything. Every part of me.

Then I had a thought what if I channeled Hamon into Daft Punk?

I waited till late one night to try it. Just me, alone in the garage.

The second I pushed the energy into him... something weird happened.

Daft creaked. His shell started to crack. I heard it first—a soft pop. Then a few more. His chestplate split right down the middle. A thin line, spreading over his body. Then the side of his head cracked too. I stepped back.

And just like that, my Hamon energy was completely drained and I blacked out.

It was instant. One second I was standing, the next I was on the ground. Eyes closed. Couldn't move. Couldn't feel Daft punk. Couldn't feel anything. I came to my senses maybe a minute or two later. My hands were ice cold. I couldn't even sit up for a while.

What the hell was that? It was like... a cocoon cracking open. Like something was about to come out.

Didn't try again that night.

I wasn't ready for that. Not even close.

After that, I knew, I needed way more control.

I never said it out loud, but whatever that change was... it felt too big. Too risky. The last thing I wanted was for Daft to fall apart in the middle of something important.

Over the next week, I stuck to my regular training and kept working on deepening my control over Hamon. It was starting to blend into my fighting style, but man, it was draining.

At some point, I remembered this manga I'd read, where the guy walks up a tree using his chakra or something. I thought, why not try that with Hamon?

So, early one morning, I headed out back. The yard was still damp with dew, and the ground was firm from the summer heat. I picked the biggest tree out there the one with the bark peeling halfway down and stood in front of it barefoot, palms open.

I tried to go straight into it at first. Planted one foot on the trunk, tried to go vertical. Controlled breathing. One step... then another.

I slipped and smacked my head on the ground.

So I dialed it back. Started simple.

I placed one foot against the trunk again. Breathed in slow. Tried channeling Hamon down through the sole of my foot. Nothing. I slid right off.

Tried again. This time, deeper breath. Held it. Focused all the energy into my leg. Pressed my foot into the bark, lifted the other. I managed maybe ten centimeters off the ground before slipping again.

But I didn't stop.

Next day I tried it on the outer wall of the house just regular brick. Pressed my hands to it, leaned in, focused. Breathed slow. Let the pressure sink into my arms. I could hang there without slipping, at least at first.

One time I lost grip and slammed my forehead into the wall. Hurt like hell.

Another day I went to the beach. It was mostly empty.

I Wasn't trying to walk on water or anything I knew I wasn't even close to that. I just wanted to feel how Hamon moved under my feet. i Focused on breathing. Let the tide roll up my legs—ankles, knees—and tried to push the energy downward with each step. Like I was rooting myself to the sand instead of just standing on it.

At night I'd head back to the garage. Shadowboxed in the dark. Just stood there with Daft Punk behind me, running through forms. Jab. Cross. Slip. Counter. Each one synced to my breath. Still trying to work Hamon into my fighting.

I'd made some progress over the last two weeks. I could use it now while moving, fighting. But I still wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep that same focus in an actual fight. Training was one thing. Battle's different.

Either way... I was ready for the Sports Festival.

[TL:-Hey everyone, Let me know if anything felt off or didn't land right. Open to any thoughts appreciate the feedback.]