Mha: Sand Sand Fruit

Akira wiped the sweat from his brow, the faint glow of the streetlights reflecting off his drenched figure. He was about to continue his routine when he noticed two figures approaching from a distance. Even from afar, one of them seemed oddly familiar. His eyes narrowed as the taller of the two stepped closer, emitting a strangely calming presence.

The duo stopped a few feet away. The lanky, frail man with deep-set eyes smiled warmly, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the tension in the air.

"Hello, boy," the man said in a friendly tone. "My name is Toshinori Yagi, and this is Midoriya Izuku. We were looking for a good spot to train, and it seems like you've already staked your claim here. Mind if we join you?"

Akira studied the pair for a moment. He already knew who Toshinori truly was, even in this gaunt form, and the boy next to him—green-haired, freckled, and brimming with nervous energy—was unmistakably Midoriya Izuku. Yet, Akira played along, feigning ignorance with a faint smile.

"This place isn't mine," Akira said, gesturing toward the mountain of garbage surrounding them. "But if you're here to train, you're in for a rough time. This isn't exactly the cleanest or most comfortable spot."

Toshinori chuckled lightly, scratching the back of his head. "Comfort isn't what we're after. Sometimes, the toughest training environments forge the strongest wills."

Akira smirked, crossing his arms. "Fair enough. But don't say I didn't warn you. This is where weaklings come to break a sweat and realize how far they've got to go." His tone was teasing but carried an undertone of challenge.

Midoriya stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Thank you! I'll do my best to keep up."

Akira's gaze shifted to the younger boy. His nervous energy was palpable, but there was something in his wide, determined eyes that caught Akira's attention. **This kid has heart,** Akira thought. **But let's see if he has the stamina to back it up.**

"Well," Akira said, pointing to a particularly large pile of trash, "let's see if you can handle it. This isn't a walk in the park. I've been training here for weeks, and it's not just about lifting junk. It's about building grit."

Midoriya nodded eagerly, his fists clenched with determination. "I understand! I'll push myself as hard as I can."

"Good," Akira replied with a smirk. "But don't cry when it gets tough."

---

The three began their training. Akira returned to his usual routine, hoisting heavy pieces of scrap metal and running with them across the beach. His movements were precise and controlled, each step deliberate as he balanced the weight on his shoulders.

Midoriya, guided by Toshinori, attempted to mimic Akira's exercises. He picked up a jagged piece of metal but barely managed to lift it, his arms trembling under the strain. Sweat poured down his face as he staggered forward, his legs nearly giving out.

"These weights… they're insane!" Midoriya panted, dropping the metal with a loud clang. He bent over, clutching his knees as he gasped for air.

Akira, carrying an even larger piece of scrap, glanced at him and chuckled. "It's not about brute strength. You've got to build up your endurance first. This kind of training isn't something you can rush."

Midoriya straightened, wiping his brow. "R-right. I'll keep trying."

Toshinori observed from a distance, his sharp eyes focused on Akira. **This boy moves like someone with years of experience. His control, his stamina… it's almost unnatural for someone his age. And that Quirk of his—if I'm not mistaken, it's tied to sand.**

Midoriya tried lifting another piece of metal but stumbled, nearly dropping it on his foot. Akira moved swiftly, catching it before it hit the ground.

"Careful," Akira said with a raised eyebrow, setting the metal aside. "You can't be a hero with broken toes."

"Th-thanks," Midoriya stammered, his face red with embarrassment. "I'll be more careful."

Akira smirked again. "Good. But don't just try harder—try smarter. If you keep pushing yourself recklessly, you'll just burn out before you make any progress."

Midoriya nodded, his resolve firm despite his exhaustion. Toshinori, standing nearby, couldn't help but smile at the exchange. **Akira might not realize it, but he's already showing the qualities of a leader.**

As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the trio paused to catch their breath. Akira stretched his sore muscles, glancing at Midoriya, who was sprawled on the ground, panting heavily.

"Not bad for your first time," Akira said, offering a hand to help Midoriya up. "But if you're serious about this, you'd better come back tomorrow."

Midoriya took his hand, pulling himself to his feet. "I will. Thank you, Akira."

Toshinori stepped forward, placing a hand on Midoriya's shoulder. "Let's call it a day for now. You did well, young Midoriya. And Akira," he said, turning to the other boy, "you've got something special. Keep at it."

Akira nodded, watching the pair as they walked away. As he returned to his training, he couldn't shake the feeling that his path was about to intertwine with theirs in ways he hadn't yet imagined.