"I already have a general idea of your strength."
After introducing himself, Phantom Soul didn't waste a single moment. The special training for Lock began immediately.
"Your speed, reaction, and judgment are all solid." Phantom Soul glanced at a form in his hands, neatly filled with notes and data from the earlier battle.
His Quirk—Double Phantom—had produced the ghostly clones that attacked Lock, allowing him to observe the boy's physical condition firsthand.
Lock noticed the Pro Hero's seriousness as he scribbled away on the sheet.
Man, the Japanese and their forms…
They documented everything—from daily schedules to marriage certificates. Even those came in the form of detailed charts, not small booklets.
But Lock couldn't help feeling an odd contrast looking at Phantom Soul. Despite the eerie, inky black hair that made him look intimidating, his attitude was meticulous, calm, and unexpectedly kind.
Of course, appearances meant little in this world. Quirks had changed how people looked; a fearsome face didn't mean a cruel heart, and a friendly one didn't guarantee honesty.
Still, it was funny—Lock had once seen an online ranking of "Pro Heroes Who Look Like Villains." Phantom Soul had been near the top.
Yet after spending a few hours with him, Lock had come to appreciate his sharp, methodical teaching style and gentle manner.
Phantom Soul scanned his clipboard and said thoughtfully, "Your fundamentals are impressive for your age. But your physical endurance still isn't up to pro standards."
Lock nodded in understanding. He was preparing for the Provisional Hero License Exam after all; body and mind both needed to meet professional benchmarks.
"What should I focus on, then?" he asked.
Phantom Soul simply turned and pointed toward the towering mountains of garbage behind them. His meaning was obvious.
Lock sighed, resigned. "Yeah… figures."
He'd known from the moment the training was set here what was coming—the same method All Might had used to train Izuku Midoriya: using the massive piles of trash both as a load and as cleanup for the park.
"In addition to building strength," Phantom Soul explained, clearing his throat, "this doubles as combat and rescue training. The specifics of the annual exam are only known to the Public Safety Commission, but every year the content changes slightly."
Still, combat and rescue always formed the core.
"Rescue is straightforward," the Pro Hero went on, "but when it comes to combat…" He hesitated, studying Lock. "There's something you should know."
In today's oversaturated Hero industry, competition was merciless. The same applied to exams.
He finally said it: "There's an unspoken rule. Most candidates form temporary alliances at the start—to gang up on whoever looks like the easiest target."
Fewer competitors meant higher odds of passing.
And Lock—a second-year high schooler—would stand out instantly.
When the exam began, he'd likely become the first target. Surrounded and outnumbered.
Lock bowed deeply. "Thank you, sensei."
He understood. That was why Phantom Soul had used so many ghost clones earlier—to prepare him for a scenario where he'd be surrounded and forced to adapt under pressure.
Thus, Lock's special training began.
"Hey! Don't slack off! Keep climbing!"
"How could a man ever say no?"
Lock's voice was strained, sweat pouring down his face. Veins bulged across his arms as he heaved a mass of iron scraps strapped to his back. The load weighed well over fifty kilos.
Every morning, he woke at five a.m., arriving at Dagobah Seaside Park for an hour-long warmup run before training.
Then came the heavy lifting—hauling trash, separating waste, and cleaning the grounds—all to build his physical foundation.
"Don't forget to sort the garbage properly!" Phantom Soul called from a distance.
Japan's obsession with recycling was legendary.
Everything had to be categorized—combustibles, non-combustibles, recyclables, and large or hazardous waste. Even empty water bottles had to be separated from their caps and labels.
And every day had different collection rules. You couldn't just throw everything into the bin at once.
According to Phantom Soul, this wasn't just cleanup—it was discipline training. Staying calm and precise under strain was vital for a Hero.
By afternoon, Lock took a short lunch break to rest his exhausted muscles. Then came the second half of training—rescue drills.
In modern Hero society, rescue work outweighed even combat. Heroes were judged not just by their strength, but by how effectively they saved lives.
Recognizing a victim's condition instantly, navigating dangerous environments, making split-second decisions—these were the real tests of a Hero's worth.
Phantom Soul's Quirk made him a perfect instructor for this. His clones could simulate all kinds of victims—injured civilians, trapped workers, or frightened children—allowing Lock to practice dozens of rescue scenarios every day.
When night fell, they switched to combat drills.
No magic. Just hand-to-hand combat and tactical positioning. Lock focused on sharpening his physical instincts.
During one of those late sessions, Kyoka Jiro stopped by the park to check on him.
She had opposed his decision to take a leave of absence from U.A. for special training, especially since the Provisional Exam was so competitive. But watching Lock's determination—his relentless effort and unshakable will—her worry turned into quiet support.
She said nothing that night, only watched from a distance and smiled faintly.
And just like that, ten days passed.
The Provisional Hero License Exam was about to begin.
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