MHA: Izuku Reloaded

"You need to relax more here." I pressed my palm against Midnight's lower back, feeling the tension in her muscles. "This tightness is limiting your range of motion."

The private gym's training room smelled of fresh mats and something tropical. Air freshener maybe? Midnight lay face-down on a yoga mat while I helped her stretch, my hands steady and clinical as I worked out the knots in her shoulders.

"Mm, you certainly know your way around." She sighed as I found a particularly tight spot. "Where did you learn this?"

"Basic anatomy is essential for effective combat." I shifted my weight, applying more focused pressure. "I've studied how the body moves, how it breaks, how it heals. Makes targeting weak points easier."

Her muscles tensed slightly under my hands. "Such dangerous knowledge in those gentle fingers."

"Speaking of danger..." I moved to her arm, carefully extending it while watching her face for signs of discomfort. "I've analyzed your combat footage. The way you move suggests formal dance training, probably ballet. But you've modified it into something more... predatory."

She laughed softly. "My, you have done your homework. Though I'm surprised you found footage - I tend to avoid cameras when fighting seriously."

"There's an old clip from your second year at UA. A training exercise against Eraserhead." I remembered the grainy video, how she'd moved like smoke between his attacks. "You used his capture weapon against him. Beautiful technique."

"Flatterer." But I felt her preening slightly at the professional assessment. "Though that was ages ago. My style's evolved since then."

"I noticed." I helped her sit up, positioning myself behind her to work on her neck. "You've integrated elements of modern dance, particularly in how you dodge. Makes your movements less predictable."

She tilted her head, giving me better access. "Quite the eye for detail. Think you can adapt your style to my movement?"

"That's what we're here to find out." My thumbs found a knot at the base of her skull. "Though I should warn you - my teaching methods can be... intense."

"Oho?" She glanced back at me, eyes gleaming. "Planning to be rough with your sensei?"

"Only as rough as necessary to make the lessons stick."

Her breath caught slightly. But before she could respond, I pressed into the pressure point I'd been targeting. She gasped, body going momentarily limp as the tension released.

"Better?"

"You..." She shook her head, clearing it. "You're dangerous, Midoriya-kun. And not just in combat."

I stood, offering my hand. "Ready to begin the actual training?"

She took it, letting me pull her to her feet. "Lead the way, sensei."

We moved to the center of the training room, squaring off on the mats. I noted how she settled naturally into a modified dance stance - weight perfectly balanced, arms loose but ready.

"Show me your basic striking form first." I needed to see how she moved without the influence of her quirk. "Full speed, but pull the hits."

She launched forward, her combination crisp and controlled. Left jab, right cross, spinning back kick. Ballet-trained flexibility clear in every motion. I blocked each strike easily, analyzing her patterns.

"Good foundation." I caught her wrist on the next exchange, using her momentum to guide her past me. "But you telegraph your spins. Here..."

I positioned myself behind her, hands on her hips to adjust her stance. She inhaled sharply at the contact.

"Something wrong, sensei?"

"No, just..." She shivered slightly as I corrected her shoulder alignment. "Your touch... it's very... grounding."

Interesting. I'd noticed similar reactions from others - Camie, Yaoyorozu, Hagakure, even Recovery Girl's assistant Queen. 

"Focus." I kept my voice firm but not unkind. "Again, this time keeping your core engaged through the turn."

We spent the next hour working through basic forms, my hands constantly moving to adjust her positioning or demonstrate proper technique. Each touch seemed to affect her more strongly, though she maintained admirable professionalism.

"Your body moves like a dancer." I guided her through a complex evasion pattern. "We can use that. Make your combat style more... fluid."

"Like this?" She attempted the movement again, smoother this time.

"Exactly." I stepped back, watching her form. "Though we'll need to break some ingrained habits first. You still move like you're performing for an audience."

She laughed breathlessly. "Can't help it. Been in the spotlight too long."

"Then we'll work on that too." I moved behind her again, hands finding her shoulders. "Close your eyes."

She tensed slightly but obeyed.

"Now..." I spoke quietly, close to her ear. "Feel how your weight shifts. Don't think about how it looks. Just move."

My hands guided her through a basic kata, our bodies moving in sync. She followed remarkably well, letting herself flow with the motions rather than trying to control them.

"Beautiful." The word slipped out before I could catch it.

Her eyes opened, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "The technique?"

"The way you're finally letting go of the performance." I stepped away, resuming a ready stance. "Now, let's see how you handle this at combat speed."

The next exchange was faster, sharper. She'd begun integrating the new movements naturally, though her theatrical training still showed through occasionally. I corrected each slip with quick taps or gentle repositioning, noting how she leaned into every touch.

"Enough." I called a halt after another intense sequence. "You're picking this up well, but your stamina needs work."

She pouted, chest heaving slightly. "So cruel, Midoriya-kun. And here I thought we were having such fun."

"This isn't about fun." But I smiled to take the sting out. "It's about making you stronger."

"Mmm." She stretched, apparently unconcerned about how the motion emphasized her figure. "You know, when I agreed to this arrangement, I expected more... traditional instruction."

"Disappointed?"

"Quite the opposite." She met my eyes directly. "You're not what I expected, Midoriya-kun. Not at all."

I retrieved our water bottles, tossing hers over. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing..." She took a long drink, watching me over the bottle. "Most men your age can barely string two words together around me. But you... you're completely unfazed."

"Should I be fazed?"

"That's exactly what I mean!" She gestured expansively. "You treat me like... like..."

"A person?"

She paused, considering. "Yes, actually. Not as the R-Rated Hero or as your teacher, but just... me."

I shrugged, rolling my shoulders to work out some tension. "You're a skilled hero with combat experience I can learn from. The rest is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" Her lips curved. "My, my. Should I be offended?"

"You know what I mean." I took another drink before continuing. "Your public persona, the flirting, the suggestive comments - they're tools. Weapons in their own way. I respect that. But they're not you."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed - a real laugh, not her usual theatrical one.

She shook her head, still chuckling. "No wonder Camie's so taken with you. You see right through people, don't you?"

"I try to see what's important."

"And what do you see when you look at me, Midoriya-kun?"

I met her gaze steadily. "A hero who's spent so long playing a role she sometimes forgets who she is beneath it. Someone who uses sexuality as armor because it's easier than letting people see her strength. A fighter who could be truly exceptional if she stopped worrying about looking good and focused on being effective."

Silence stretched between us. Her expression had gone completely still, all traces of playfulness vanished.

Finally, she spoke quietly: "That's... uncomfortably accurate."

"Then let's do something about it." I set my water bottle down. "Ready for round two?"

She squared her shoulders, something new flickering in her eyes. "Show me."

We moved back to the center of the mats. This time, when she settled into her stance, there was less performance in it. More purpose.

"Good." I began circling slowly. "Now, forget everything you know about looking dramatic. Forget about the audience. There's only this moment, this movement, this breath."

She tracked my motion, body loose but ready. When I struck, she flowed around it exactly as I'd shown her - no flourish, no wasted motion, just pure efficient movement.

"Yes!" I pressed harder, throwing combinations designed to test her new form. She met each one, not perfectly but with growing confidence. "Feel how much faster you are without the extra motion?"

She laughed, bright and genuine, as she spun under my guard to land a light tap on my ribs. "It's like... like..."

"Like freedom."

We continued sparring, my hands occasionally correcting her form mid-exchange. Each touch seemed to ground her more, strip away another layer of performance until only the fighter remained. By the time we finished, she was drenched in sweat but grinning fiercely.

"That was..." She shook her head, still catching her breath. "I haven't trained like that in years."

"You've been holding yourself back." I handed her a towel. "Trying to maintain an image instead of exploring your potential."

She dabbed at her face, considering. "Perhaps. Though I notice you're not exactly following standard teaching protocols either."

"Would standard protocols have worked?"

"Fair point." She stretched, grimacing slightly. "Though I'm going to feel this tomorrow."

I stepped behind her once more, hands finding her shoulders. "Here. Let me help with that before you leave."

She stiffened momentarily before melting into the contact. "Mm. You really are dangerous, you know that?"

"So you keep saying." I worked methodically down her back, feeling the muscles release. "Though I'm not the one who weaponized sexuality."

She snorted. "No, you just weaponized basic human comfort. Do you have any idea how good you are at this?"

"I understand bodies." My thumbs found a particularly tight spot between her shoulder blades. "How they work, how they break, how they heal. The rest is just application."

"It's more than that." She sighed as another knot released. "Your touch... it's like you actually care. Not just about the physical results, but about the person you're working with."

I considered this as I continued the impromptu massage. "I suppose I do. Everyone has potential. Sometimes they just need help accessing it."

"Like you're doing with Yaoyorozu?"

My hands stilled briefly before resuming their work. "That's different."

"Is it?" She glanced back at me. "I've seen how she looks at you during training. How she responds to your guidance."

"She needs to build confidence in close combat. Nothing more."

"Mhmm." She didn't sound convinced. "And Camie? Does she know about all these private training sessions?"

"Camie understands what I'm trying to accomplish. And she always comes first." I stepped back, deciding we'd ventured into dangerous territory. "Same time next week?"

She turned to face me, expression suddenly serious. "Midoriya-kun. A word of advice?"

I waited.

"You have a gift. Not just for fighting, but for bringing out the best in people. For seeing past their masks to what lies beneath." She smiled wryly. "But be careful. That kind of insight... it can create connections you don't intend."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Perhaps." She gathered her things, heading for the door. "Just remember - not everyone can handle that kind of... intensity... as well as some of us."

I watched her leave, considering her words. She wasn't wrong - I'd noticed how people tended to respond to my focused attention. Even now, I could feel the ghost of tension between us, born from hours of close physical contact and stripped-away pretense.

But that was a problem for another day. For now, I had my own training to complete before heading home. The weights felt good as I started my cool-down exercises.

I wonder what Camie will say when I tell her about tonight's session, I thought, starting my first set of weighted pull-ups. Probably something inappropriate involving the word "cougar."