Iron and shadows

Disclaimer:

This is a fan-created work inspired by the world of My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia), created by Kōhei Horikoshi. All rights to the original characters, settings, and concepts belong to their respective owners. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for commercial use. The original character Yami Kurogane and the plot of this fanfiction are my own creation.

The air outside the hospital was cold, but to Yami, it felt like a slap. He had spent days locked away in that white prison, surrounded by machines beeping and nurses looking at him with pity. Now he was free, but freedom was not what he expected. The world remained as grim as he had left it: indifferent, cruel, and filled with invisible threats.

Izumi was by his side, walking in silence. His aunt seemed like a hollow shell; her eyes were sunken, her skin pale, and her movements mechanical. The loss of her little sister and brother-in-law had devastated her beyond words. It was as if she had left part of her soul in the rubble of the mall.

Yami didn't say anything as they got into the car. There were no words that could fill the void between them. But that was fine; he didn't need comfort or emotional connections right now. All he needed was strength.

---

Izumi's house was small and austere, a perfect reflection of her current state of mind. The walls were bare, the furniture functional but lifeless, and the air carried an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. Yami dropped his backpack on the floor and sat on the sofa without saying a word.

Izumi watched him from the kitchen, her movements slow as she prepared a cup of tea for herself. Finally, she broke the silence.

—Yami... —her voice was barely a whisper—. Thank God you're okay.

He nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of affection and distance toward her. It was like they were both trapped in a bubble of shared but distant pain.

—How are you? —she asked, trying to smile while her lips trembled.

—I'm not here to talk about my feelings —he replied coldly—. I need to train.

Izumi frowned at his abrupt response, but Yami couldn't afford to indulge in compassion for even a second. The thought of being weak disgusted him; he needed to become something stronger.

—I want to go to the gym —he said firmly—. I need to improve.

His aunt looked at him with concern; she was still grappling with her own loss and the weight of the world on her shoulders.

—Yami... right now might not be the best time to think about that —she said gently—. We need time to heal.

—I don't have time —he interrupted her, his voice steady but low—. I can't just sit here while I get weaker. I want to learn martial arts... the deadliest ones.

The mention of martial arts made Izumi raise an eyebrow.

—Martial arts? Why? —she asked, trying to understand his sudden urgency.

Yami felt anger bubbling inside him as he recalled the helplessness he had felt during the attack.

—Because I won't be the weak little brat I was during that incident —he said firmly—. I don't want to feel that panic again. I need control over my life.

Izumi sighed deeply, feeling the emotional weight behind his words. She knew Yami was dealing with things she could barely comprehend.

—Alright... —she finally said—. If this is what you really want... I'll support you.

---

The gym Izumi took him to was small but well-equipped. The punching bags hung from the ceiling like suspended corpses, and the rhythmic sound of gloves hitting pads filled the air. For Yami, it was perfect.

From day one, he poured every ounce of energy into improving his body and mind. It wasn't just about gaining muscle or learning basic moves; it was about rebuilding himself from scratch. Each punch against the bag was a declaration: he would not be weak again.

But he didn't stop there. At night, while Izumi slept silently in her room, Yami researched the deadliest martial arts in the world: Krav Maga for its practical brutality; Muay Thai for its devastating strikes; Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for its absolute control over opponents; and Russian Sambo for mastering both grappling and throws.

With every technique learned and every muscle strengthened, he felt the shadow of the helpless child he once was begin to fade away.

---

Though Izumi tried to connect with him emotionally, Yami maintained a calculated distance. He wasn't cruel or cold towards her; he simply couldn't afford to become emotionally dependent on anyone else. He had learned that lesson in the hardest way possible.

Still, there were moments when something resembling affection emerged between them: when Izumi prepared food for him after an exhausting day at the gym or when she reminded him that he needed to rest even though he insisted on training until exhaustion set in.

These were small human gestures amid a sea of darkness, but Yami accepted them with a slight nod or a murmured thanks before refocusing on his plans.

In those solitary but productive days, Yami began developing a personal code in an old notebook he found among Izumi's forgotten belongings. Each page was filled with detailed diagrams on combat techniques, defensive strategies, and plans to enhance his *Overload* peculiarity without completely destroying his body.

Every line written was a silent promise: he would be invincible.

As he wrote under the dim light of his desk during quiet nights, he felt something within him slowly change. He was no longer just a survivor; he was becoming someone more... something greater.

With each passing day spent training and planning, Yami felt himself getting closer to his ultimate goal: absolute control over himself and any situation.

And so began his path toward true strength... one dark yet necessary for survival in a world where weakness meant death.