….
"Alright, the lecture's over."
Dabi announced, the sudden change in his tone snapping them back to the present. "Now we get to the actual work. I'm implenting individual developnt plans tailored to your specific Quirks and fighting styles."
Excited murmurs rippled through the class.
"The weighted training from the Sports Festival continues, but only as a warm-up." Dabi added. "Keep them on for the first hour. Then we drop the weights and shift into Quirk-specific drills. With the practical exams coming up, efficiency matters more than volu."
He pulled out a tablet, his thumb scrolling through a list of detailed dossiers.
"Kirishima, you're up first."
….
Dabi pushed him relentlessly.
He stayed in Kirishima's ear, telling him he was weak, that he couldn't protect a fly at this level, and that his Quirk was useless if it shattered under real pressure.
What Dabi wanted from him was simple: an unbreakable wall.
He didn't ntion it aloud, which would have ruined the villainous instructor persona, but he genuinely liked this kid's spirit.
Kirishima embodied non-toxic masculinity: kind, supportive, and fiercely determined without being over aggressive.
He was the kind of hero the world actually needed more of. But to survive the world Dabi knew was coming, "Red Riot" had to beco obsidian.
….
Iida, on the other hand, received a suggestion that turned his face pale.
Dabi proposed the removal and regeneration of his engines; the sa brutal thod his brother, Tensei, had used to reach the top.
"I... I would need to confirm with my brother first," Iida said slowly, his voice tight. "And obtain dical clearance. And ensure it wouldn't interfere with the practical exams."
Tensei was obviously still active as a hero, as there was no Stain incident to sideline him.
"I already spoke with Tensei." Dabi revealed, watching Iida's eyes widen. "He said, and I quote: 'If Tenya is serious about surpassing , he'll do it. If he's scared, he won't.' Apparently, ripping out your mufflers is a family rite of passage."
Dabi didn't sugarcoat it. He explained that the procedure was agonizing and the recovery would be slow. But the potential for sheer, unadulterated speed was undeniable.
Iida's jaw set with a hard, familiar determination. "I am willing to undergo the procedure... but only after the practical exams. As the class representative, I cannot risk being sidelined when my classmates are depending on ."
….
Tokoyami was the one who interested Dabi the most.
Dark Shadow possessed terrifying potential, but the rampage problem in total darkness was a critical, glaring weakness.
"I am aware of the limitation, Sensei." Tokoyami's voice was somber. "I have been working on control, but progress is slow."
"That's because you're approaching it the wrong way." Dabi said bluntly. "You're trying to suppress Dark Shadow in the dark. You're holding it back, fighting your Quirk's nature instead of working with it. You're treating your own power like an enemy."
Dark Shadow's yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously from Tokoyami's shadow.
The session that followed was intense.
Dabi had taken Tokoyami to an isolated section of the training grounds, sealed off from external light.
When Dark Shadow erged in the absolute blackness, the transformation was instantaneous and dramatic. The creature swelled to a monstrous size, its strength and aggression spiking until the air in the room felt heavy.
Honestly, Dabi was impressed.
If properly harnessed, this Quirk could put Tokoyami on equal footing with powerhouses like Bakugo and Todoroki… at least in terms of raw combat potential.
The problem was that after that session, Dark Shadow refused to manifest anywhere near Dabi.
He might have beaten the spirit out of it a bit too enthusiastically; a fire Quirk was the ultimate deterrent, and Dabi hadn't even needed to break a sweat to keep the shadow in line.
He also hinted sothing–
"You know." Dabi added, watching the bird-headed boy compose himself. "...with enough control, you wouldn't just be grounded. You could probably achieve flight."
Dark Shadow's eyes, currently peering out from the collar of Tokoyami's uniform, instantly brightened with interest despite its sulking.
"Flight?" Tokoyami repeated, clearly intrigued.
"Sothing to work toward." Dabi confird. "Master the darkness rampage first, then we explore advanced applications."
….
Throughout the day, as Dabi moved from student to student, he felt a persistent, prickling sensation at the back of his neck.
Two pairs of eyes were boring into him with uncomfortable, predatory intensity. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in Yaoyorozu's tactical drills and Asui's mobility exercises, but the weight of those stares was becoming uncomfortable.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Finally, Dabi sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned around slowly.
Bakugo and Todoroki stood there.
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Dabi said, eting their twin glares. "I will get to you two soon. Stop looking at like that before you actually burn a hole through my skull. I'm not made of steel, you know."
For a mont, he truly took in their expressions.
The unsettled eagerness radiating from both was almost a physical force; an unyielding need to improve, to surpass, to be the last one standing at the top of the ranks.
Bakugo was explosive and aggressive. And Todoroki's had his usual cold face, but the intensity was identical.
If he delayed their individual training any longer, he was reasonably sure they would both spontaneously combust.
"Actually, you know what?" Dabi reconsidered his schedule. "Everyone else, stay on your drills. You two problem children? Follow . We're starting now before you give a migraine."
"FINALLY!" Bakugo snapped, his palms let out a series of small, impatient pops. "I've been waiting all damn week for you to stop wasting ti with the extras!"
Todoroki didn't say anything, but the slight inclination of his head spoke volus of satisfaction.
As they walked toward a more isolated training area, Dabi felt a mixture of anticipation and slight dread.
These two are going to be a nightmare, he thought. The competitive kind that push each other to dangerous limits.
But that was also what made them exceptional; the trick was going to be channeling that madness into sothing productive.
He could work with that.
Actually, despite the intensity, or perhaps because of it, he was looking forward to seeing exactly how far they could go.
Teaching students who wanted to learn this badly, who were willing to bleed for an inch of progress, and who stared at you with a determination so fierce it was almost unsettling... that was what made this job worthwhile.
Even if their stares occasionally gave him chills.
"Alright." Dabi said once they reached the isolated training ground. "Let's see what you two are really capable of when you stop holding back."
Both of them smiled. It wasn't a reassuring sight.
….
The area Dabi had selected was remote by design,
It was tucked far enough from the main campus that collateral damage wouldn't trigger alarms, reinforced to withstand high-tier Quirk output, and wired with caras that fed directly to Recovery Girl's office.
With these two, dical intervention wasn't a possibility; it was almost a must.
Bakugo and Todoroki stood ten ters apart, ready to begin anyti.
"First things first." Dabi said, positioning himself between them. "We establish ground rules. This is training, not a death match. So push each other hard, but not past the point of permanent injury. Understood?"
"Tch. Whatever." Bakugo's hands were already sparkling.
"Understood." Todoroki confird.
"Second rule: you follow my instructions, even in the middle of a fight. If I say stop, you stop, and if I tell you to switch tactics, you switch. Your egos don't get a vote in my curriculum."
Bakugo's eyes twitched. "Are we here to train, or am I supposed to listen to you talk all day?"
"Bakugo, I am dead serious. Get that through your thick skull now, or this won't end well for either of us." Dabi's voice had dropped into a low, dangerous register that landed exactly as intended.
Then he pulled out a tablet with detailed analysis. "I have been observing you two for months; Sports Festival, drills, and actual combat situations. I know your patterns, strengths, weaknesses. And when I give you instructions, they're based on data, not an opinion."
He turned to Todoroki first. "Your Quirk is, frankly, absurd. Half-Cold Half-Hot gives you complete elental control. You can shift between offense and defense on instinct, create mobility options on the fly, and lockdown entire areas if you need to. Which ans you're built to adapt to almost any situation you're thrown into, and when you actually use it to its full potential, it's as close to a cheat code as it gets."
Todoroki's expression remained neutral, but sothing flickered in his eyes.
"But." Dabi continued. "...you're still holding back on your left side. You've accepted it intellectually, decided it's your power and not his, but you haven't internalized it. In high-pressure situations, you still default to ice because it's your comfort zone. It's the wall you've lived behind your whole life."
"I use fire when necessary." Todoroki said defensively.
"No." Dabi corrected sharply. "You use fire when your ice isn't enough. That's reactive. It's a backup plan, not a strategy. You're waiting for the fight to dictate your moves instead of dictating the fight yourself."
He shifted his stance slightly.
"Watch."
He raised his left hand this ti, and flas erupted, brilliant orange-red, the color of Todoroki's fire.
But Dabi didn't stop there. As the flas intensified, he began to compress the energy, the core of the fire shifting through the spectrum: orange to yellow, yellow to a blinding, incandescent white, and finally, a roar of pure, sapphire blue.
The temperature in the surrounding area spiked noticeably.
Both students stared, genuinely surprised; especially Todoroki, his eyes widened slightly .
Because he rembered, sowhere deep and half-buried, that his eldest brother Toya's flas had started that sa shade.
The sa orange-red as their father's, as his own left side.
And now here after many years later, standing casually cycling through the entire thermal spectrum like he was changing channels.
Dabi caught the look on Todoroki's face and allowed himself a small, smug smile. He held the display a beat longer than was strictly necessary.
He was absolutely, unquestionably showing off, and he had zero intention of stopping.
He had discovered recently that this was one of his favorite parts of teaching, not that he would ever admit it out loud.
….
What Dabi didn't explain was the physics behind it, and what made the technique genuinely difficult.
The color of a fla is a direct signature of its temperature and combustion efficiency.
Red and orange flas are the coolest, burning at roughly 600–1,000°C; they are the result of incomplete combustion, where unburnt carbon particles glow but aren't fully consud.
As temperature rises, flas shift through yellow and white.
Blue flas are the hottest visible color, reaching 1,400°C and above, produced by complete combustion, where fuel burns efficiently with sufficient oxygen and releases maximum energy.
Dabi's Quirk, Bluefla, generated intense heat reaching approximately 2,000°C or higher.
His flas had originally burned red, gradually shifting to blue over years of intense emotional distress and conditioning.
Ordinarily, the heat he produced was tied directly to his emotional state, the greater his rage, the hotter and more volatile his output.
And now replicating Todoroki's orange fla required him to work in reverse:
He studied the exact thermal signature of the Todoroki family's Quirk, the specific combustion pattern, the way it interacted with surrounding oxygen, and then intentionally suppressing his own temperature output while manually adjusting the light spectrum.
It required a level of microscopic control that Endeavor himself would have envied.
"Your fire." Dabi said, letting the flas roll between his fingers as he spoke. "It has more potential than you can even fathom. Right now, you treat it like a blunt instrunt; point, release, overwhelm.
"But fire isn't that simple; it's about control over temperature, shaping the fla itself, and the manipulation of heat as an environnt."
He closed his hand, snuffling the fla into a thin, vanishing wisp of smoke.
"Until you start thinking of it that way, you're only playing with matches."
He demonstrated by creating a thin, needle-like lance of concentrated fla extended from his fingertip; the sa principle as his compressed explosion, but elongated.
He swept the lance across a training dummy without igniting the surrounding material.
"Precision applications," Dabi said, the lance vanishing. "Not just 'throw fire at the problem' and hope it works."
Again, what he didn't explain was the technique's complexity.
"So stop treating your left side like a backup plan instead of an integral part of your fighting style." Dabi continued. "Because of that hesitation, you're operating at maybe sixty percent of your potential."
Todoroki was silent, his gaze fixed on the molten line on the dummy. "...That's fair."
Dabi pointed. "That's the habit we're breaking. You need to reach a point where fire and ice are equally instinctive, where you can switch between them, or use both at the sa ti, without having to think about it."
"Hm, understood." Todoroki nodded quietly.
"Did you, now? Undoing a lifeti of trauma and conditioning isn't simple." Dabi's voice softened slightly. "But you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not bound by his rules or his expectations. You're Shoto Todoroki, and both sides of your power are yours. So start acting like it."
Sothing shifted in Todoroki's expression, a hardening of resolve.
Then, Dabi turned his focus toward Bakugo.
"And you," Dabi said, his eyes narrowing. "Your Quirk is extraordinary. Explosive sweat generated from your palms, ignited at will, creating blasts with serious concussive force. And the mobility it gives you is top-tier."
Bakugo's aggressive posture softened slightly; complints from Dabi were rare enough to pay attention to.
"But you're wasting thirty percent of your potential because you prioritize raw power over control release. You treat your Quirk like a hamr when it should be a scalpel. Every blast you throw is maximum output.It looks great for the caras, but it drains your reserves and wrecks your joints faster than it normally could have."
"So what, you want to use weaker explosions?" Bakugo's tone was defensive.
"I want you to use smarter explosions." Dabi corrected. "Variable output based on need."
Bakugo scowled but didn't argue. He had felt that limitation himself during extended battles.
"Watch. I'll give you a light demonstration."
Dabi raised his right hand; the sa orange flas gathered in his palm, but instead of billowing outward, they began to collapse inward.
He compressed the fire, spinning it into a tight, screaming sphere. The heat intensified as the fire folded over itself again and again, becoming a dense, vibrating orb.
Then, he released it.
The compressed fireball shot forward with explosive force; it hit the training dummy with a sharp, tallic crack that mimicked the exact acoustic signature of Bakugo's blasts.
Both students stared.
"Now you can use my Quirk too?!" Bakugo roared, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
"What the hell kind of 'copy-cat' bullshit is this?!"
.
….
[To be continued…]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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