Dante stirred awake to the smell of instant coffee. His body ached, not really from pain but more like something inside him had changed like growth pain.
He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The faint memory of last night lingered in flashes, he definitely remembered little Dante absorbing people. And then he slept, deep and dreamless. But he definitely felt stronger.
Absorbing people.
He flexed his fingers. No burning in his chest, no fatigue. Just a lot more strength than yesterday. 'Maybe there's more to this than quirk than I thought…'
He turned his head.
Mirko sat at the dining table, one leg propped up on the other, arms crossed, mug of coffee in her hand. Her eyes met his, unreadable.
"You're getting up late." She said, voice flat.
Dante blinked. "…It's six."
"Exactly." She tilted her head. "Get your ass in the kitchen and make me breakfast."
Dante groaned, dragging himself to his feet and shuffling over to the counter. He opened the cabinets, started pulling out eggs, bread and the last of the butter. The stove clicked on.
He could feel Mirko watching him. But he didn't look back. But then—
"So," she said, drawing the word out, "your girlfriend."
Dante's hand froze mid crack over the pan. The egg shell snapped in a jagged line, half of it falling into the pan with a splatter.
"I don't—what?"
Mirko sipped from her mug, having finally found something to get at Dante.
"She's got a cute voice. Sounded real happy to talk to you. Pretty sure I saw you blush in your sleep when she called you a 'dummy' right?"
Dante turned to glare at her, ears red.
"You answered my phone?"
"I kept vibrating like crazy it was annoying." She shrugged, smirking now. "I figured if it was important, I'd deal with it. But it was just some teenage love call."
Dante groaned, flipping the egg violently. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Mhm~"
"She's just—someone I talk to. She's my friend."
Mirko leaned forward slightly, grin growing.
"Mhm~"
Dante slammed the egg sandwich down on the plate and handed it over without another word, scowling.
Mirko took a bite, chewed thoughtfully.
"Good. You cook like someone that grew up without parents. Itsuka Kendo is lucky to have such an amazing cook for the future, Bun Bun."
Dante's eye twitched and he went back to the kitchen to grab his own egg sandwich.
He sat down across from her, trying not to feel the heat still in his ears. But deep down, something about her teasing helped him get over the slaughter last night.
Dante finished eating his sandwich and Mirko went into the bathroom to get changed.
Mirko left the bathroom and chucked a dark red sweatsuit at Dante, "go get changed."
Dante didn't protest and went into the bathroom to get changed.
When he left the bathroom, Mirko was nowhere to be found.
He looked outside the front door and saw Mirko striding ahead with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, wearing a white tank top and baggy black pants.
Dante, wearing his sweatsuit with a thin towel around his neck, jogged to catch up. "Where the hell are we going?"
"Just follow me."
They took a left, passed a row of rusted fences and old shuttered stores, then stopped infront of a wide, crumbling factory. Vines crawled up its sides. Most of the windows were either shattered or boarded up.
Dante blinked. "You sure do love abandoned buildings, don't you?"
Mirko didn't answer. She pushed the door open with a creak and stepped inside. Dante followed her in.
Inside, the space was massive—open and empty except for the occasional rusted beam or debris pile. Near the center, Mirko dropped the duffel bag and cracked her neck.
She reached in and tossed Dante a bottle of water and a protein bar.
He caught them, eyebrows raised. "Alright, so what exactly are we doing here?"
Mirko stood straight and began tightening her gloves. "Twelve hours."
Dante blinked. "Huh? Twelve hours of what?"
"Fighting." She said with a grin. "Occasional breaks to eat. No rounds. Just you and me until your body breaks down or you get stronger. Whatever comes first."
Dante stared at her, slowly lowering his bottle. "You're not serious."
She dropped into a crouch, bouncing lightly on her heels, eyes glinting. "Dead serious. I watched you fight in that cage. It's like you were holding back against me. You're fast, brutal. But you still hesitate. You still think too much."
"And this'll fix that?" Dante asked flatly.
Mirko smirked. "I'll teach you about hero work during sparring, so you won't have time to fully grasp what I'm saying if you're thinking about moves. You gotta sharpen your senses more. If you survive this, you'll learn how to fight instinctively."
He sighed, started to stretch and tossed the protein bar back into her bag. "Okay, then."
Dante stepped to the side, stretching his shoulders, getting a feel for the floor. "No pulling punches?"
Mirko's eyes sparkled.
"Nope."
She lunged.
Mirko's fist shot toward his face before he could raise his hands.
Dante staggered back, narrowly avoiding a clean hit, but her foot was already swinging low. He jumped, barely, still chewing on her moved from just a second ago.
"Rule one," Mirko said, bouncing on her toes. "Heroes like me don't get time to think. Not in real fights. Civilians screaming. Buildings collapsing. Blood in your eyes. You don't have time to think, you gotta fight instinctively!"
She darted forward again, this time throwing a flurry of jabs toward his chest and ribs.
Dante blocked the first two, ducked under the third, but the fourth slipped through and caught his shoulder. He hissed and spun away, trying to regain focus.
"You're looking at my footwork, trying to think of a way to counter," Mirko said, chasing him. "Trying to figure out my next move. It can be a good habit, but if your opponents good, it'll backfire."
She leapt, her heel slammed down toward his head. He raised both arms to block and the impact barely rattled through his bones.
Dante pushed back and stumbled back a few steps, heart racing.
"You wanna go solo?" She went on, not slowing down. "Then you need instincts sharper than a knife in your gut. You don't got a team to back you up. No comms. No orders. Just you, your body and the choice to move or die."
She lunged again.
Dante tried to listen to his instincts.
He ducked under the hook, twisted his body and jabbed her in the ribs, quick and clean. She grunted, twisted with it and elbowed him in the gut.
His breath left his lungs in a single whoosh.
He doubled over, but his fist shot up out of reflex and caught her under the chin. It wasn't a clean hit, but he hit her nonetheless.
Mirko grinned wide, a small bit of blood on her lip.
"There you go!"
No time to celebrate. She kicked him in the chest, sent him flying across the floor, coughing.
He rolled onto his feet and spat blood onto the concrete.
Mirko cracked her knuckles, pacing toward him again.
"Rule two, try not to get hit. You're not invincible, learn to dodge not to tank."
She charged again.
Dante's muscles twitched. No thoughts. Just movement.
His shoulder twisted, head dipped and her punch missed him by a whisper. His leg came up, knee to her thigh, then he twisted into a spin, slamming his elbow into her collarbone.
Unfortunately, she caught it. Just barely. And laughed.
"We still got 11 hours and 50 minutes to go!" She said. "Better keep up."
Then she vanished.
Dante's breathing hitched. He blinked and sharpened his senses.
Some more antennae sprouted, thin, dark spikes rising from his shoulders and spine like feelers. They picked up everything. Shifts in pressure, the scruff of her foot on concrete, the slight whistle of air parting around her speeding form.
His body moved before his mind caught up.
He could feel Mirko's fist coming from the left, he leaned back.
A kick from behind, he spun and blocked.
She was testing him now, pushing her speed, faster than she needed to be. Her style was raw aggression.
Dante's muscles moved with his senses, he wasn't quite seeing her, more feeling her.
A low punch, he dodged it.
A jumping knee, he ducked under it, surged forward, caught her midair with a disgusting uppercut that hit her jaw clean and sent her spinning.
"Oh wow, that's what I'm talkin' about."
Dante didn't say a word, he just charged.
They clashed once more, his arms bulged and throbbed slughtly. She caught his wrist, flipped him, slammed him into the floor. But he coiled around her arm like a snake, twisted his body mid fall and threw her back.
Mirko grunted as she skidded across the ground, boots squealing against concrete. She looked up with wild eyes, hungry for more.
"Keep it pushing, Bun Bun, let's do this All day."
Dante's teeth clenched at the name, but he didn't stop. His antennae kept twitching, feeling everything.
Another attack. Another dodge. Another brutal exchange.
He was fighting like a creature now. Not a student. Not a kid.
He was properly adapting