Three months into his training regimen, Yoshikage Kira made a disturbing discovery about himself:
He was already looking for excuses to stop.
It was subtle at first. A thought here and there. "I've made good progress, maybe I can take a day off." Or "My Hamon is developing nicely, I don't need to practice quite so intensely." Or "I can do fifty push-ups now, that's probably enough."
The rationalizations were insidious precisely because they were partially true. He had made good progress. His Hamon was developing. Fifty push-ups was a significant improvement from his starting point of twelve.
But "good enough" was how people died.
"Good enough" was what the original Yoshikage Kira had thought about his abilities, right up until Josuke Higashikata and his friends had hunted him down like a rabid dog.
"Good enough" was what every villain in My Hero Academia had settled for, and look where it had gotten them—defeated, imprisoned, or dead.
Yoshikage sat in his apartment at 4:47 AM, having woken thirteen minutes before his alarm, and confronted this uncomfortable truth:
I am inherently lazy.
It wasn't a moral failing, exactly. It was simple human nature. The path of least resistance was always tempting. Comfort was appealing. And his previous life as a wage slave had trained him to do the minimum necessary to get by, conserving energy for... for what? He hadn't even had hobbies back then. Just work, internet arguments, and waiting to die.
This life should have been different. He had power, knowledge, opportunity. He should have been driven, motivated, unstoppable.
But the fundamental truth was that he was still the same person inside. Same lazy habits. Same tendency toward complacency. Same desire to coast once initial goals were achieved.
"Unacceptable," he said aloud, and Killer Queen manifested beside him in the pre-dawn darkness.
The Stand tilted its head, questioning.
"I'm going to fail," Yoshikage explained, voicing his fear directly. "Not because I lack power. Not because I lack knowledge. But because I'm going to get comfortable. I'm going to decide I've trained 'enough' and stop pushing myself. And then someone with an unexpected counter or a lucky break or just more determination is going to kill me."
Killer Queen's eyes gleamed, and Yoshikage felt the Stand's unspoken response: Then don't stop.
"It's not that simple," Yoshikage said, standing and pacing. "Motivation fades. Discipline wavers. Every human being has a natural tendency toward homeostasis, toward finding a comfortable equilibrium and staying there. Willpower is a finite resource."
He stopped pacing and looked at Killer Queen directly.
"Which is why I need to make training non-negotiable. Not something I do when I feel motivated, but something I do regardless of how I feel. A fundamental part of my existence, like breathing or eating."
Killer Queen remained silent, but Yoshikage could feel the Stand's approval.
"Starting today," he declared, "training isn't optional. It's not dependent on mood or motivation or whether I feel like I've made 'enough' progress. It's simply what I do. Every single day. No exceptions."
He pulled out his training journal and wrote in large letters across a new page:
THE MOMENT YOU THINK YOU'VE TRAINED ENOUGH IS THE MOMENT YOU START LOSING.
Below that, he added:
Training is not preparation for the fight. Training IS the fight. Every day you don't improve is a day your enemies do.
And finally:
Arrogance killed the original Kira. Complacency kills everyone else. You will not be either.
He stared at the words, committing them to memory, making them a mantra.
Then he changed into his workout clothes and began his morning routine with renewed focus.
No more thoughts of "good enough."
Only thoughts of "better."
Week 14: The Martial Arts Question
Yoshikage's Hamon had progressed to the point where he could consistently produce visible effects. He could make water ripple in a glass, could cause leaves to crackle with energy when he touched them, could even deliver minor shocks through direct contact.
It was still nowhere near the level that Jonathan or Joseph had achieved—he couldn't shatter stone with a touch or conduct Hamon through dozens of meters of material—but it was functional.
The problem was that he had no idea how to use it in actual combat.
Hamon masters in the series had all been skilled martial artists. Jonathan had learned Sendo, a martial art created specifically to channel Hamon. Joseph had combined Hamon with street fighting and improvisation. Lisa Lisa had been a master of multiple disciplines.
They could fight hand-to-hand, delivering Hamon through strikes and holds, using their martial arts training as the framework for their energy attacks.
Yoshikage, meanwhile, could barely throw a proper punch.
"This is a problem," he muttered, examining his form in the mirror after a particularly clumsy attempt at a basic combination. "I have this energy-based power that requires physical contact to deliver, and my physical combat skills are 'untrained teenager flailing.'"
Killer Queen manifested beside him, and Yoshikage could swear the Stand looked unimpressed.
"Yes, I know," he said defensively. "I've been focusing on conditioning and Hamon development. But you're right, I need actual fighting technique."
The question was: which martial art?
He had meta-knowledge from dozens of anime and manga, each with their own training philosophies and fighting styles. He had vague memories of real-world martial arts from his previous life's internet browsing. And he had the specific requirements of Hamon combat.
He needed something that emphasized:
Striking (to deliver Hamon through contact)Breathing control (to maintain Ripple while fighting)Defensive techniques (because he was still physically weaker than most opponents)Adaptability (because every enemy would have different Quirks)
After extensive research, he settled on a hybrid approach.
Muay Thai for striking fundamentals—elbows, knees, clinch work. It was brutally efficient and emphasized the kind of full-body contact that would let him channel Hamon through multiple points simultaneously.
Judo for throws and control—because redirecting an opponent's force was more efficient than trying to overpower them, and it would let him maintain contact for extended Hamon delivery.
Boxing for footwork and head movement—because not getting hit was more important than hitting hard, and the breathing techniques in boxing training would complement his Hamon practice.
And underlying all of it, principles adapted from training regimens he remembered from various anime:
From Dragon Ball Z: The concept of weighted training and constant progressive overload. If Goku could train in increased gravity, Yoshikage could use weighted clothing and resistance bands to make every movement harder.
From Naruto: The importance of chakra (Hamon) control exercises and the idea of training until techniques became muscle memory, executable without conscious thought.
From One Punch Man: Saitama's absurd but oddly logical approach of consistent, daily training without exception. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, 10km running. Every day. The specifics were less important than the consistency.
From Hajime no Ippo: Proper boxing fundamentals, the road work, the understanding that combat sports were as much about conditioning as technique.
From Baki: The idea that training should simulate real combat conditions, that the body needed to be conditioned to take damage, not just deliver it.
"Alright," Yoshikage said, pulling out his notebook and creating a new training schedule. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it properly."
He researched local dojos, gyms, and training centers. Found a Muay Thai gym that offered early morning classes. Located a Judo club that met three evenings a week. Identified a boxing gym with a coach who had a reputation for working with "difficult" students.
He enrolled in all three using different identities—couldn't have the same person showing up at multiple martial arts schools, that would draw attention.
The instructors were skeptical of the scrawny teenager who showed up claiming he wanted to learn to fight. Their skepticism lasted until they saw his conditioning and his absolute refusal to quit.
Because Yoshikage had one advantage over every other student: he knew his training wasn't theoretical. He wasn't learning martial arts for sport or self-defense or fitness.
He was learning how to kill people without using his Stand, and how to survive when his Stand wasn't enough.
That knowledge made him take every lesson seriously, absorb every correction, practice every technique until it was perfect.
Week 18: Integration Training
Four and a half months into his training regimen, Yoshikage had his first real test of whether his approach was working.
It came during a routine intelligence-gathering operation. He'd been tracking a mid-level villain named Muscular—not the same Muscular from canon, that psychopath wouldn't appear for another year or so, but a different criminal who'd taken the same name—who was rumored to have information about Hero Public Safety Commission black sites.
The plan had been simple: observe, listen, gather information without engagement.
The plan went sideways when Muscular spotted him.
Yoshikage had gotten complacent—there was that word again—and had positioned himself poorly. He'd been so focused on recording the villain's conversation that he'd missed Muscular's partner circling around behind him.
"Hey," the partner said, a woman with a Quirk that let her see through walls. "We got a spy."
Muscular turned, and his Quirk activated instantly—muscle fibers erupting from his skin, bulging grotesquely, quadrupling his size.
"I hate spies," Muscular said, grinning with too many teeth.
Yoshikage ran.
Not because he couldn't fight—Killer Queen could have ended both villains in seconds—but because fighting meant exposure, meant heroes investigating why villains had died mysteriously, meant risking his civilian identities.
But the woman had a speed-enhancement Quirk in addition to her wall-vision, and she caught up to him in an alley three blocks from the initial encounter.
"Not so fast," she said, hand crackling with electricity—a third Quirk, apparently she was one of those rare multi-Quirk users. "Boss wants to talk to you about why you were recording his conversation."
Yoshikage turned to face her, mind racing through options.
He could use Killer Queen. Touch her, turn her into a bomb, detonate. Clean, efficient, no witnesses except Muscular who wouldn't know what had killed her.
But that would establish a pattern. Another mysterious death connected to villain activities. The heroes might not be smart, but they weren't completely incompetent. Enough mysterious deaths and someone would start investigating.
Better to handle this without Stand abilities.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Yoshikage said, raising his hands in apparent surrender while subtly shifting into a proper defensive stance—thank you, boxing lessons. "I wasn't recording anything. I was just—"
She attacked, electricity arcing from her hands.
Yoshikage's body moved before his conscious mind fully registered the threat—four and a half months of daily training creating muscle memory that his previous sedentary life had never developed.
He slipped the electric attack with footwork drilled into him by his boxing coach, stepped inside her guard using principles from Muay Thai, and grabbed her wrist in a Judo grip.
And he channeled Hamon.
It wasn't much. His Hamon was still weak compared to proper masters. But it was enough.
Golden energy crackled across his hand—visible for the first time, his Hamon finally strong enough to be seen—and conducted directly into the woman's nervous system through their point of contact.
She convulsed, her own electricity Quirk backfiring as Hamon disrupted her bioelectric field, and collapsed.
Not dead. Hamon wasn't inherently lethal unless you wanted it to be. But definitely unconscious.
Yoshikage stared at his hand, at the fading golden glow, and felt something like exhilaration.
It worked. Actual Hamon in actual combat. I didn't use Killer Queen and I still won.
Then Muscular came around the corner, saw his partner unconscious, and roared with rage.
"You fucking BRAT!"
The muscle-bound villain charged, fiber-wrapped fist swinging toward Yoshikage's head with enough force to pulverize concrete.
This time, Yoshikage didn't hesitate.
He ducked under the swing—boxing footwork—trapped Muscular's extended arm—Judo technique—and drove his knee into the villain's exposed ribs while channeling Hamon through the strike—Muay Thai application.
Muscular's Quirk protected him from the physical impact, his muscle fibers absorbing the blow easily.
But it didn't protect him from Hamon.
The life energy conducted through the muscle fibers, disrupting their cohesion, and Muscular screamed as his own Quirk destabilized.
Yoshikage followed up with an elbow strike to the temple—no Hamon this time, just kinetic force and proper technique—and Muscular staggered.
He's too durable, Yoshikage realized. The Hamon is affecting him but not enough. I need more power or better technique or—
Muscular recovered faster than expected and backhanded Yoshikage with a muscle-wrapped arm.
The world spun. Yoshikage felt himself flying backward, crashing into a wall, pain exploding through his ribs.
Okay. Maybe I'm not quite ready for direct combat with villain-class opponents.
Muscular advanced, murder in his eyes.
And Yoshikage made a calculation: his cover wasn't worth dying for.
Killer Queen manifested.
The Stand's fist caught Muscular's next attack, invisible force stopping the villain's momentum completely.
Muscular's eyes went wide. "What the—"
Killer Queen touched his chest.
Yoshikage stood, ribs aching, and met Muscular's confused gaze.
"You seem to have misunderstood the situation," Yoshikage said quietly. "I gave you a chance to walk away. You chose violence. That was a mistake."
He raised his thumb in Killer Queen's signature detonation pose.
"Wait—" Muscular started.
Yoshikage pressed his thumb down.
Muscular's body vaporized, completely and utterly, leaving no trace except a small scorch mark on the ground where he'd been standing.
The alley was silent.
Yoshikage dismissed Killer Queen, checked on the unconscious woman—still breathing, she'd recover—and limped away.
He made it back to his safe house, treated his injuries—two cracked ribs, extensive bruising, mild concussion—and sat down to analyze what had happened.
Lessons Learned:
1. Hamon works in combat but is still too weak for serious threats
2. Martial arts training saved my life—I dodged attacks I would have taken four months ago
3. I got overconfident in my surveillance abilities and was spotted
4. I defaulted to Killer Queen when pressed, revealing Stand abilities to a potential witness (even though she was unconscious)
5. I am still physically weak compared to Quirk-enhanced opponents
6. Pain tolerance and ability to fight while injured needs work
He stared at the list, feeling the ache in his ribs with every breath.
I could have died tonight. If Muscular had been faster, if I hadn't had four months of training, if I'd panicked instead of remembering my techniques... I would be dead.
The thought was sobering.
And motivating.
"No more half-measures," he said aloud. "No more thinking I've trained 'enough.' I survived tonight because I trained. I almost died because I haven't trained enough."
He updated his training schedule, adding new elements:
5:00 AM - Hamon breathing and meditation (45 minutes, increased from 30)
5:45 AM - Strength training with progressive overload (heavier weights, more complex movements)
6:45 AM - Running/cardio with weighted vest
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM - School/civilian activities (maintaining cover)
4:00 PM - 5:30 PM - Martial arts practice and Hamon integration drills
5:30 PM - 6:30 PM - Killer Queen experimentation and Stand combat scenarios
6:30 PM - Dinner (high protein, carefully measured calories)
7:30 PM - 9:00 PM - Evening martial arts class (rotating between Muay Thai, Judo, Boxing)
9:00 PM - 10:00 PM - Flexibility training, injury prevention, technique review
10:00 PM - 10:30 PM - Meditation and mental conditioning
10:30 PM - Sleep (exactly 6.5 hours)
It was more intense than his previous schedule. It would be harder to maintain. It would hurt.
He was going to do it anyway.
Week 22: The Hyperbolic Time Chamber Approach
Yoshikage became mildly obsessed with the concept of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber from Dragon Ball Z.
The idea was simple: a space where time moved differently, allowing warriors to train for a year while only a day passed in the outside world. Accelerated improvement through temporal manipulation.
He didn't have access to anything like that—time manipulation was Bites the Dust's domain, and that ability was defensive, not training-oriented.
But the underlying principle was sound: maximize training efficiency by optimizing every variable.
"If I can't manipulate time," he reasoned, "I can manipulate everything else. Sleep optimization, nutrition timing, training density, recovery protocols. If I treat my body like a machine that can be tuned for maximum performance..."
He dove into research with the same obsessive thoroughness he applied to everything.
Sleep science: He learned about sleep cycles, REM stages, recovery processes. Adjusted his schedule to wake during light sleep phases. Installed blackout curtains and white noise generators. Optimized room temperature for recovery.
Nutrition: He calculated exact macro requirements for muscle growth and energy. Meal prepped every Sunday. Supplemented strategically—creatine for strength, omega-3s for inflammation, vitamin D for everything.
Recovery: He added ice baths after intense training. Started using foam rollers and massage tools. Learned about active recovery versus complete rest.
Training density: He began doing Hamon breathing exercises during his commute. Practiced martial arts footwork while waiting in lines. Did isometric exercises during class when no one was watching.
Every waking moment became an opportunity for improvement.
His classmates thought he was weird—the quiet transfer student who was always doing breathing exercises and fidgeting in strange ways.
His martial arts instructors thought he was obsessed—the teenager who showed up thirty minutes early to every class and stayed late to practice.
His parents thought he was going through a fitness phase—the son who suddenly cared about protein intake and sleep schedules.
None of them understood.
This wasn't a phase. This wasn't a hobby. This was survival.
Every hour he didn't train was an hour his potential future enemies did. Every shortcut he took was a vulnerability that could be exploited. Every moment of complacency was a step toward defeat.
"You're going to burn out," his Muay Thai instructor warned after a particularly intense session. "I've seen it before. Young guys who train too hard, too fast. They injure themselves or lose motivation and quit."
"I won't," Yoshikage said simply.
"Everyone says that."
"I'm not everyone."
And he wasn't. Because everyone else was training for sport, or fitness, or self-improvement.
Yoshikage was training because the alternative was death.
Week 26: Hamon Breakthrough
Six months into his training regimen, Yoshikage achieved his first major Hamon milestone.
He'd been practicing the classic technique from Part 1—the Zoom Punch, a Hamon-enhanced strike that extended reach through energy projection. Jonathan had used it to defeat Dio in their first real confrontation.
Yoshikage had been attempting it for weeks with minimal success. He could channel Hamon through a punch, making it slightly more powerful. But he couldn't achieve the projection, the extension of his arm through pure energy that was the technique's signature.
Then, during a particularly frustrating training session, he had a realization.
He'd been thinking about Hamon and Stands as separate systems. But they weren't. They were both manifestations of life energy, both expressions of fighting spirit.
What if he could channel Hamon through Killer Queen?
It was unprecedented in the source material. Joseph Joestar had conducted Hamon through Hermit Purple, but Hermit Purple was a relatively simple Stand—just thorny vines that could be used as conduits.
Killer Queen was much more complex. A close-range power-type Stand with multiple abilities and autonomous sub-Stands.
But the fundamental principle should be the same.
He manifested Killer Queen, focused on his Hamon breathing, and tried to channel the Ripple into the Stand.
At first, nothing happened. Hamon was life energy, and Stands were spiritual manifestations. The two energies didn't want to mix.
He pushed harder, drawing on his understanding of both systems.
Hamon flowed through the circulatory system, through living tissue. But Stands were connected to the user's life force, their fighting spirit. They were part of the user, just externalized.
So if his blood carried Hamon, and Killer Queen was an extension of his life force...
Golden energy erupted across Killer Queen's form.
The Stand's pink and white coloring took on a golden sheen, Hamon crackling visibly across its surface. Its eyes, normally dark and hollow, glowed with inner light.
Yoshikage stared in amazement.
"Holy shit. It actually works."
He threw a punch, Killer Queen mirroring the movement, Hamon-charged fist striking a training dummy.
The dummy exploded.
Not from Killer Queen's bomb ability—Yoshikage hadn't activated that. But from pure kinetic force amplified by Hamon, the life energy conducting through the dummy's material and causing catastrophic structural failure.
"Okay," Yoshikage said, looking at his glowing Stand. "Okay. That's new."
He experimented for the next three hours, testing the limits of Hamon-enhanced Killer Queen.
The Stand's strength increased dramatically—it could punch through concrete that would have merely cracked before.
Its speed improved—not massively, but noticeably, the Hamon seeming to lubricate its movements.
And most interestingly, Hamon seemed to make Killer Queen's bomb ability more efficient. Objects charged with Hamon-enhanced touches became bombs faster, the energy settling into the material more quickly.
"This is a force multiplier," Yoshikage realized. "Hamon alone is useful but limited by my physical capabilities. Killer Queen alone is powerful but has specific applications. Combined, they cover each other's weaknesses."
He could use Hamon for direct combat when he needed to avoid revealing his Stand. He could use Killer Queen when Hamon wasn't sufficient. And he could use both together for maximum effect.
This is what training is for, he thought. Not just getting stronger in existing capabilities, but discovering entirely new applications.
He added a new section to his training journal:
Hamon-Stand Integration Techniques
1. Golden Killer Queen - Full Stand manifestation with Hamon enhancement (high energy cost, maximum power)
2. Hamon Bomb - Charging objects with both Killer Queen AND Hamon for enhanced explosive yield
3. Ripple Shield - Using Killer Queen defensively while channeling Hamon for energy deflection (theoretical, needs testing)
4. SHA Overdrive - Deploying Sheer Heart Attack with Hamon charge for increased damage and speed (untested)
Each technique would need practice, refinement, testing.
More training. Always more training.
Good.
Week 30: Breaking Points and Pushing Through
Seven and a half months into his regimen, Yoshikage hit a wall.
It wasn't physical—though his body ached constantly and he'd collected an impressive array of training injuries. It wasn't mental—though he was exhausted from maintaining multiple identities while training obsessively.
It was motivational.
He woke up one morning and simply didn't want to do it anymore.
Didn't want to drag himself out of bed for breathing exercises. Didn't want to do weighted squats until his legs shook. Didn't want to get punched in the face at Muay Thai or thrown on his head at Judo or lectured about footwork at boxing.
He wanted to sleep in. Wanted to eat junk food. Wanted to spend a day doing nothing.
"This is the test," he told himself, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. "This is where most people quit. Where discipline meets burnout and willpower fails."
5:00 AM became 5:15.
Then 5:30.
He could skip one day. One day wouldn't matter. He'd trained for seven and a half months straight, he deserved a break.
Except he knew where that logic led.
One day became one week. One week became a month. A month became "I'll start again next year." And next year never came.
The moment you think you've trained enough is the moment you start losing.
He'd written that himself. Weeks ago. When he'd been motivated and determined and full of conviction.
Now those words felt like mockery.
"Get up," he said aloud.
His body didn't move.
"Get. Up."
Still nothing.
Killer Queen manifested above him, staring down with those hollow eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," Yoshikage muttered. "I'm tired. I'm allowed to be tired."
The Stand didn't respond, but Yoshikage felt its judgment anyway.
Because Killer Queen was his fighting spirit made manifest. And his fighting spirit was telling him that tiredness didn't matter, that comfort was death, that every moment he lay in this bed was a moment he was choosing to be weak.
"I hate you sometimes," Yoshikage said to his Stand.
Killer Queen's expression didn't change.
"Fine. FINE."
He forced himself out of bed, every muscle protesting. He changed into workout clothes with mechanical movements. He started his Hamon breathing even though his lungs felt heavy and his mind was foggy.
The first ten minutes were agony.
The next ten were worse.
But somewhere around minute thirty, something shifted. His breathing found its rhythm. The Hamon warmth spread through his chest. His mind cleared.
By the time he finished his morning training, he felt... not good, exactly. But functional. Present.
"This is the real training," he realized. "Not the days when I'm motivated and everything feels easy. But the days when every cell in my body is screaming to quit and I do it anyway."
He added a new entry to his training journal:
Discipline is doing it even when—especially when—you don't want to. Motivation is temporary. Discipline is permanent. Build the second, don't rely on the first.
From that day forward, whenever he didn't want to train, he trained harder.
Not wanting to do morning cardio? Add an extra kilometer.
Not wanting to practice Hamon? Do an extra thirty minutes.
Not wanting to spar? Request the hardest opponent available.
Make the resistance into fuel.
It was brutal. Unsustainable by most metrics.
But Yoshikage didn't need it to be sustainable forever. He needed it to be sustainable until he'd achieved his goals.
After that, if he burned out, at least he'd burn out successful.
Week 35: The Baki Approach to Conditioning
Eight months in, Yoshikage added a new element to his training, inspired by the most unhinged martial arts manga he'd ever read: Baki the Grappler.
In Baki, fighters didn't just train techniques. They conditioned their bodies to take damage. They got punched in the face until their skulls hardened. They broke their knuckles on hard surfaces until the bone rebuilt stronger. They subjected themselves to controlled trauma to build resistance.
It was insane.
It was also, Yoshikage had to admit, potentially effective.
"I've been training to avoid getting hit," he said to Killer Queen during one of his planning sessions. "Footwork, head movement, defensive techniques. That's important. But what happens when I do get hit? What happens when someone lands a clean shot?"
The Muscular encounter had shown him: he went down. Hard. Two cracked ribs from a single backhand, despite the villain not even using his full power.
"I need to be able to take a hit and keep fighting."
The problem was implementing Baki-style conditioning without permanently injuring himself or drawing attention to the damage.
He couldn't just let people punch him in the face during sparring—that would be suspicious and potentially cause brain damage.
He couldn't do the traditional "punch makiwara board until your knuckles break and rebuild" training—he needed his hands functional for school and civilian activities.
But he could be strategic.
He started with controlled exposure. During Muay Thai, he stopped trying to avoid every hit. He let light punches and kicks land on protected areas—arms, legs, torso—so his body could adapt to impact.
He added resistance to his core training—having heavy bags dropped on his stomach while he was doing sit-ups, training his abs to instinctively brace against impact.
He practiced getting thrown in Judo without breaking his falls perfectly, letting himself hit the mat harder than strictly necessary, building impact tolerance.
And he used Hamon to accelerate recovery. He'd noticed that channeling Ripple energy through injured areas seemed to speed healing—not dramatically, not like Crazy Diamond or Recovery Girl, but measurably. A bruise that should have lasted a week faded in three days.
"Controlled damage plus enhanced recovery equals accelerated conditioning," he reasoned. "I'm basically doing microfracture training for my entire body."
It hurt. God, it hurt.
But three weeks into the new protocol, he took a solid hook to the ribs during boxing sparring—the same area where Muscular had cracked his ribs months before—and while it hurt, nothing broke.
His body was adapting. Becoming more resilient.
Good.
Because he couldn't rely on avoiding every attack. Eventually, something would get through. When that happened, he needed to be able to take it and keep fighting.
Week 40: Meta-Knowledge Application
Ten months into training, Yoshikage started systematically reviewing every training montage, every power-up arc, every technique development sequence from every anime and manga he'd ever consumed.
He treated his previous life's media consumption as a database of training methodologies and extracted applicable principles:
From Hunter x Hunter (Nen training):
The importance of fundamental exercises that seemed boring but built foundation (like Gon catching the fish or Wing's meditation training)The concept of personalizing your power system to your individual strengthsThe idea that restriction and conditions could make abilities stronger (like Kurapika's chains)
From My Hero Academia (despite hating it):
Quirk training methods that could be adapted to Killer Queen experimentationThe importance of support equipment and tools (which he'd been neglecting)The concept of "Ultimate Moves" - signature techniques practiced to perfection
From Demon Slayer:
Total Concentration Breathing parallels to Hamon—maintaining energy circulation constantly, even during sleepThe value of repetitive motion training until technique became subconsciousThe concept of visualization and mental training being as important as physical
From Kengan Ashura:
The importance of understanding anatomy and physiology for both offense and defenseHow "weaker" fighters could defeat stronger ones through superior technique and strategyThe value of pre-initiative—reading opponents and acting before they complete their attacks
He integrated all of it.
He started practicing Hamon breathing during sleep, training his body to maintain the Ripple 24/7 like Total Concentration Constant. It was exhausting at first—he kept waking up gasping—but gradually his body adapted.
He developed specific "Ultimate Moves" combining Hamon, martial arts, and Killer Queen abilities, then practiced them until he could execute them without thinking.
He studied anatomy textbooks, learning exactly where to strike for maximum effect, how much force was needed to disable without killing, where Hamon would be most effective.
He trained pre-initiative by having his sparring partners attack him from behind or while he was blindfolded, forcing himself to read body language and intent rather than relying on vision.
Every piece of meta-knowledge, every training scene he'd ever watched, became a resource to exploit.
His instructors were baffled by his eclectic approach—the teenager who combined Muay Thai with breathing techniques that looked like meditation, who asked weirdly specific questions about nerve clusters and energy flow, who practiced the same combination hundreds of times until it was perfect.
But they couldn't argue with results.
In ten months, Yoshikage had gone from "scrawny teenager who can barely throw a punch" to "legitimately dangerous martial artist who makes black belts work for their victories."
His Hamon had progressed from "barely visible energy" to "can shatter concrete with a touch."
His Stand techniques had expanded from "basic bomb and Sheer Heart Attack" to "an entire arsenal of integrated abilities."
He still wasn't at the level of professional heroes or top-tier villains.
But he was getting there.
And more importantly, he was getting there through effort, not shortcuts or genetic lottery or being gifted power by a mentor.
Every bit of his strength was earned.
That made it real in a way this universe's Quirk-based power never could be.
Week 45: The Realization
Eleven and a half months into his training regimen, Yoshikage had an epiphany:
He was enjoying this.
Not in a healthy way—he was still fundamentally driven by spite and paranoia and the determination not to die to some lucky hero or unexpected counter.
But there was satisfaction in pushing his body to new limits. Pride in executing a technique perfectly. A sense of accomplishment when he noticed measurable progress.
He'd started this training purely as a means to an end. A necessary evil to survive and accomplish his goals.
Somewhere along the way, it had become part of his identity.
He was someone who trained. Someone who pushed themselves. Someone who refused to accept "good enough."
"Is this character growth?" he asked Killer Queen during a late-night training session. "Am I becoming a better person through dedicated self-improvement?"
Killer Queen's eyes gleamed, and Yoshikage imagined the Stand was amused.
"No, you're right," he agreed. "I'm becoming a more dangerous person through dedicated self-improvement. There's a difference."
Because his goals hadn't changed. He still intended to dismantle Hero Society. Still planned to expose the corruption and hypocrisy and systematic failures. Still wanted to prove that intelligence and preparation could defeat genetic superiority.
The training just made him better equipped to accomplish those goals.
"One year," he said, checking his calendar. "Almost one full year of daily training. No days off. No excuses. No quitting when it got hard."
He looked at his current capabilities compared to when he'd started:
Physical Stats:
Push-ups: 12 → 200Pull-ups: 0 → 50Running: 0.5km → 15km dailyWeight: +8kg (all muscle)Body fat: 18% → 9%
Combat Skills:
Martial arts: None → Competent in Muay Thai, Judo, BoxingWin rate vs opponents: 0% → 60% (against other students), 40% (against instructors)Can fight effectively for: 5 minutes → 30+ minutes
Hamon:
Visible effect: No → YesCan conduct through: Direct touch only → Objects up to 2 metersCombat applications: 0 → 12 developed techniquesCan maintain while: Stationary → Fighting, running, under stress
Killer Queen:
Known techniques: Primary bomb, SHA, Bites the Dust → 23+ variations and applicationsCan integrate with: Nothing → Hamon, martial arts, tactical planningBites the Dust: Basic → Enhanced with teleportation and multiple triggers
He stared at the comparison.
I'm not the same person who started this, he realized. I'm not even close.
Twelve months ago, he would have lost to Muscular in seconds. Would have relied entirely on Killer Queen. Would have panicked under pressure.
Now? Now he could fight professional martial artists. Could channel life energy through his strikes. Could combine Stand abilities with physical techniques for devastating effect.
He still wasn't at the level of top heroes like All Might or Endeavor.
But he was getting there.
And when he finally made his move against Hero Society, when he started implementing Phase 2 of his plan, they wouldn't be ready for what he'd become.
"Alright," Yoshikage said, standing up from his meditation pose. "Year two. Let's see how much further I can push this."
Because the thing about training was that there was always another level. Always something to improve. Always a new technique to master or a weakness to address.
The moment you thought you'd trained enough was the moment you started losing.
And Yoshikage Kira refused to lose.
Killer Queen manifested beside him, golden Hamon energy crackling across its form, ready for whatever came next.
Outside, the city slept, unaware that someone was systematically preparing to tear down their entire world.
And in his apartment, Yoshikage Kira continued training.
Always training.
Because complacency killed everyone.
And he refused to be everyone.