The next morning, I arrived at the rehab facility early, clipboard in hand, and coffee barely kicking in. Despite the brutal training session yesterday, I had no intention of easing up. Progress didn't come from comfort—it came from pressure, stress, and pushing beyond limits.

Walking into the gym, I was met with a scene that nearly made me laugh out loud. Shigaraki was leaning against the wall, his hair even messier than usual, glaring daggers at Dabi, who sat slumped on the floor with a scowl that screamed murder. Toga was sprawled out on one of the benches, her face buried in her arms, while Spinner sat quietly in the corner, looking like he regretted every life choice that led him here.

"Good morning, sunshine squad," I greeted with exaggerated cheer.

Their collective groan was music to my ears.

"You're not human," Shigaraki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Good observation, Tomura," I replied, jotting something onto my clipboard. "I'll make a note to take you off the 'complaint department' rotation."

Dabi squinted at me. "Did you come up with new ways to torture us?"

"Of course," I said with a grin. "But I also brought snacks for afterward. Consider it a reward for surviving."

Toga perked up slightly at the mention of snacks but quickly resumed her dramatic sprawled-out position. "This better be worth it, Izuku."

"It always is," I shot back.

The first half of the session was all about quirk coordination. Individually, their quirks were strong, but I needed them to work together, to cover each other's weaknesses and amplify their strengths.

I paired Shigaraki and Spinner first. Spinner's enhanced agility and swordsmanship were a natural complement to Shigaraki's Decay—if only they could stop arguing long enough to focus.

"Spinner, stop trying to play hero," I barked as he hesitated in the middle of an attack. "You're not here to hesitate. If Shigaraki's in a fight, your job is to make sure he doesn't have to use his quirk unless absolutely necessary. Got it?"

Spinner muttered something under his breath but nodded, adjusting his stance.

Meanwhile, Toga and Dabi were another disaster in the making. Dabi's tendency to go overboard with his flames meant Toga had to be on high alert, dodging and weaving through the chaos he created.

"Toga, focus!" I snapped. "Stop running around like a headless chicken and think! Dabi, less firepower! You're not trying to barbecue her!"

"Could've fooled me," Toga muttered, sticking her tongue out at Dabi before diving into another attack.

By the end of the exercise, their movements were slightly more coordinated, though far from perfect. Still, progress was progress.

After a short break, I moved them into the mental resilience portion of training. Heroes weren't just strong—they were adaptable, capable of thinking on their feet.

"Today's scenario is simple," I announced, spreading out a series of blueprints on the table. "You're infiltrating a heavily guarded facility. Your goal is to retrieve the target without being detected. Each of you has a role to play, and you'll need to rely on each other to succeed."

Toga immediately claimed the role of infiltrator, her shapeshifting quirk making her the obvious choice. Dabi grumbled but agreed to act as the distraction, while Shigaraki took on the role of strategist. Spinner, reluctantly, became their scout.

Watching them work together was both fascinating and frustrating. Toga was brilliant at improvising but terrible at sticking to a plan. Dabi's temper flared at the slightest provocation, making him a liability. Shigaraki's leadership skills were improving, but he struggled to communicate effectively under pressure.

"Stop yelling at each other!" I shouted as their argument reached a fever pitch. "You're a team, not a daycare center!"

They grumbled but settled down, finally managing to execute the scenario with moderate success.

By the time the sun began to set, I called them in for individual evaluations.

First up was Shigaraki. I handed him a water bottle, watching as he chugged it down like his life depended on it.

"You've got potential, Tomura," I said, making notes on my clipboard. "But you're too reliant on your quirk. If you want to lead, you need to be more versatile. Work on your hand-to-hand combat."

He grunted in response but didn't argue, which I took as a win.

Next was Dabi. He slouched in the chair across from me, his usual scowl firmly in place.

"Your flames are your greatest strength and your biggest weakness," I said bluntly. "Learn to control them, or they'll control you. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, looking away. "Whatever you say, boss."

Toga was surprisingly attentive during her evaluation, nodding along as I critiqued her tendency to act on impulse.

"You've got the potential to be a great infiltrator," I told her. "But you need discipline. Chaos is your fallback, but strategy will win the day."

She gave me a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

Finally, Spinner. He was quiet, as usual, but his determination was evident.

"You're the glue that holds this team together," I said. "Don't underestimate your role. Without you, they'd fall apart."

He gave me a hesitant nod, his expression softening slightly.

As they trudged out of the facility, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. They were far from perfect, but they were improving, growing stronger with each passing day.

This wasn't just about preparing them for the sports festival. It was about showing them—and the world—that villains could be more than the labels society had slapped on them.

I glanced down at my clipboard, my notes filled with ideas for the next training session. Torture or progress? Maybe a little of both.

After all, heroes weren't made in comfort. 

And neither were legends.