Sorry for the late chapter. Two weeks ago was a big religious conference for my church and that took up all day. It was great though. And Saturday is when I do my editing for this story. Then Saturday of last week, I fell sick. This chapter had been waiting around for a while and only today did I get around to it.
Chapter 4: Resting a Sword
Shirou yawned as he tread through the streets of Vale. He had stayed up the night on a roof, sniping any Grimm he could see until the Grimm had stopped approaching. He had only been taken off duty after the entire city had settled down, causing the army to release people to go and get some rest.
Shirou wasn't in bad condition. His wounds were pretty light in regards to how long the battle for Vale had ran. The Grimm couldn't even get into melee range after Atlas's fleet had moped up the aerial battles and slain the flying Grimm over the city. And with the robots deactivated, the second major foe didn't exist. To follow it all up, the White Fang had focused on doing surgical strikes before retreating. Some hotheads had sought to continue pressing the attack, but most had retreated after carrying out their objectives.
For the hotheads, Shirou hadn't given them any mercy by shooting out their legs when he could. He doubted that any judge or jury would be merciful after what the White Fang had done.
That being said, Shirou was still very low on his Od reserves. He would need to rest for a while before he could fight at full power again.
Shirou glanced at Beacon's Tower where a bright flash of light had originated from and either paralyzed or petrified the dragon. Now that he knew that the mystical energy he had found in the history of Remnant's weapons wasn't a product of Dust, but was actually Remnant's form of magecraft, he guessed that someone had petrified the dragon. Pretty impressive, equivalent to valuable Mystic Eyes on his old world.
But he was still worried about Beacon.
The students had escaped, well most of them from what he had heard. Some of them had died and others were now crippled for life. But the evacuation had been carried out and the academy on the plateau was now empty of life.
Human life at least. The Grimm were even now arriving in greater numbers, flying Grimm like Nevermore or Griffons arriving from every direction and Shirou's reinforced eyes could see Grimm trying to climb the cliffs even now.
However, the evacuation had been at cost, and not just in terms of lives. Communications were down, and from what Shirou had heard, it was not only down in Vale, but also between the other kingdoms as well. The only way to communicate was by word of mouth and radio now.
Why it was so? Shirou had no clue. No communication technology should be set up so fragile that when one communication tower was knocked out of commission, it would take the entire network down. The engineers should have built for redundancy, in case of a technical failure that required shutting one tower down for maintenance or overhaul. How hard would it have been to build two towers and keep the second on a smaller crew?
But Shirou never had specialized in long-range communication towers. He knew how to operate a jammer, at least back on Earth, and he knew where to disable or destroy a phone tower so that people couldn't contact anyone else. But he hadn't kept up with the satellite technology after Kiritsugu had died and he didn't know how Remnant's cutting-edge technology compared to Earth's. Also, did Remnant even have satellites? Shirou hadn't heard of any, but would he have? They weren't a common topic of conversation and everything that might have linked to a satellite linked to the CCT towers instead.
Regardless, Shirou shrugged, this was a different planet. Different geniuses had been born, they had discovered or invented different things, and Remnant was more dependent on their unique resource of Dust. Earth depended on fossil fuels. From there, it only made sense that a different technology base with different resources and materials should result in different inventions.
For instance, Remnant's shifting technology in their weapons and robotics were far more advanced than Earth's equivalents. Shirou had examined and analyzed enough of Remnant's technology that he could give a fair hand at fixing things despite how different the two planets were.
Amidst his musings of technology, Shirou turned the street corner and halted.
Yellow police tape was all over the street in front of the hotel. Behind the tape, where the wall of the ground floor of the hotel had once been, was a giant hole.
Shirou's eyes roved around the scene picking up additional details. Such as the scorch marks on the ground, the slightly melted chairs in the foyer, and the faint scent of smoke.
Shirou sniffed the air, trying to pick up on more details. For one thing, the smoke didn't smell like wood smoke. More a fiery scent that he associated with fire Dust.
What had happened here?
"Excuse me," Shirou turned to ask the sole police officer who was leaning against a wall next to the yellow tape. The poor man looked like he wanted nothing more to do than to go to sleep. Poor guy. The police had been as hard hit as everyone else in Vale, and they weren't trained to deal with Grimm invasions supported by rouge army elements and terrorist strikes, all at the same time. Or at least, Shirou didn't think they were. "Do you mind tell me what-" Shirou felt a yawn coming on. "-happened here?"
"White Fang terrorist," The man yawned in return while he covered his mouth. "Wanted to kill some VIP and snuck a bomb into the hotel during the fighting. Killed more than a few people and did some structural damage. You renting a room here?"
"Yeah," Shirou looked again, this time looking closer at the scorched marks. Some of them were near outlines that could have once been where a person had died. Poor people. "I'm guessing the hotel is closed now?"
"Unless you want to wake up in the middle of the night to the hotel collapsing," The officer joked but it looked like the joke fell flat to even him. "We think it is stable enough to retrieve residents' belongings from their rooms but you are not allowed to spend the night here. Too dangerous."
The officer paused as a thought occurred to him. "You are a resident, right?"
"Yes," Shirou affirmed as he fished in his pocket for his room key and handed it over. "Shirou Emiya, room 418."
Kiritsugu had collapsed hotels before to get at a target back when he and Shirou had been traveling. It had made for good insurance for an assassination plan. But an amateur, like a member of the White Fang, wouldn't know how to do it properly to get it to collapse at the proper time.
Amateurs should leave assassinations to the professionals. Better chance of success and lesser chance of innocents getting caught in the attack.
"Do you know a good place to spend the night?" the young man asked.
"Sorry, man," the officer shook his head as he gave the key back. "Most hotels would be already full and it'll take days for hotel managers to determine if a resident is dead or alive. Maybe even have already left the city. And the hotels were full even before the attack. Stupid Atlas and curse the White Fang."
The last was said in an undertone.
Shirou could understand the malice. The simultaneous attacks of both was horrible for the city. The robots had turned on the very people they were protecting and the White Fang had displayed their hatred and blind desire for vengeance on everyone.
They couldn't claim to be working for the Faunus anymore. Not with all the dead bodies of Faunus Shirou had seen. This was just the blind hatred of fanatics that killed and killed, becoming the very monsters that they claimed to fight.
Fanatics that needed to be put down so that the innocents could live.
"Yeah, no clue what they were hoping to accomplish by this," Shirou shook his head. "It's insane to think something like this could make anything better. It'll only make things worse."
"They're not sane," the officer snapped with a scowl on his face. "Stupid Faunus and stupid Atlas. Can't they take their bloody fighting out on each other and leave the rest of us alone?"
"Unfortunately, it doesn't look like leaving others in peace had even crossed their minds." Shirou commented drily as he ducked under the police tape as the officer helpfully held it up for him. "But thanks for the help."
"Any time, man." the officer called out before turning back to act as a sentry on the streets.
As Shirou walked into the hotel and decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator, the slightly melted plastic elevator button helped a bit, he pondered on where he could sleep.
He could sleep on the streets. That wouldn't be anything he hadn't done before. Unfortunately, Shirou didn't think that restaurants would be open tomorrow and he needed to eat. Life didn't go well when you didn't have food to eat.
No, Shirou needed a place to sleep and a kitchen to cook in. Especially after a night like tonight. He needed to relax and cooking was a good way to bleed off the stress of long-running battle.
He wished he could cook meals with Miyu again, like they once had.
As Shirou passed a window on a landing between two flights of stairs, some movement caught his eye and he snapped his head to stare out the window.
A Faunus, he could tell by the black ears on top of her head, was jumping from rooftop to rooftop. For a brief moment, Shirou wondered if she was White Fang because who else would be using the rooftops rather than the streets at this hour?
But then his eyes caught sight of her weapon, a variant ballistic chain scythe with sword, cleaver, kusarigama, and gun forms as well as a ribbon connecting the weapon and its sheathe. Its name was Gambol Shroud and it was used on a wide variety of foes, including guards, Hunters in sparring matches, Grimm, Atlas robots, and White Fang members. It had also been damaged by conflict with a White Fang member's chokuto sword and some mystical energy just a few hours prior.
Shirou raised his eyebrow as he watched her run and jump from roof to roof, in the direction of the port.
A deserter, huh? Looked like the White Fang's recent actions hadn't pleased all the members of the White Fang. At least one, probably a bunch more had decided to rebel against the White Fang during or before the attack.
Shirou turned his gaze away, letting her run away, and continued to climb the stairs.
What right did he have to interfere with another's desire for a new life? If she regretted helping the White Fang, then she should live to do something about them. Killing her would benefit no one except the White Fang.
And Shirou wasn't in the habit of doing favors for his enemies.
A series of memories about all the times he had gone out of his way to help Julian Ainsworth with something at school flashed through his mind.
Okay, so he was in the habit of doing favors for his enemies, but that wasn't while they were his enemies or in the midst of combat. Nor was he willing to kill people unless it was the best option left.
There was nothing wrong with saving people. It was the right thing to do.
And if someone wanted to act in accordance with their beliefs, Shirou had no objection. He had fought Julian and the Class Card holders for the sake of Miyu. Julian had fought to save the world. Of the two, Shirou was the villain for dooming millions to die.
If someone else wanted to save people, then Shirou would let them go about it until it threatened Miyu. Probably lend a hand too as saving people was still a worthwhile thing to do. Miyu was just more important than any number of people.
Putting the deserter out of his mind, Shirou returned to pondering where he could go for the night. He needed someplace to live until he could confirm that Miyu wasn't in Vale. Or dead. Hopefully she had a nice home with kind people right now.
As for Shirou, he still needed to make sure that he didn't die before finding Miyu. Now where could he go…
Oh wait, there was that one offer for anything. And they would probably know somewhere with a kitchen.
Elsewhere…
The air in the old Vale Army Barracks was somber as the three professors prepared their beds and tried to deal with the news they had received.
Beacon was lost. Ozpin had been killed. The CCT was down. Thousands were dead and multiple students were lost forever.
It was enough to make them all quiet. Bart Oobleck wasn't as fast as he usually was, taking his time to do things. Glynda felt a lethargy coming over her as she tried to avoid thinking about all that had changed.
Peter Port on the other hand…
"So how were your battles today, Glynda?" Peter asked through the open door in his usual larger than life manner as he prepared his bed across the hall in the low-ranking married officer dorm room. "Did you manage to fight off over a hundred Grimm? Take down three Paladins at once?"
"Oh, nothing so impressive," Glynda lightly commented, taking Peter up on his subtle invitation to lift everyone's spirits instead of drowning themselves in gloom. "Only helped to take down a herd of Goliaths and their escorting Grimm."
PFFFT!
Bart spit-took his coffee. Fortunately, not to her face but some stray drops still managed to land on her clothes.
She glared, mildly annoyed at him as she fished out a handkerchief to wipe up the drops.
"Oh?" Peter raised an eyebrow at her claim. "Would that be one of the larger explosions I heard? Or did you steal Ironwood's falling ship and used it to destroy the herd?"
"The first, actually," Glynda replied, remembering that the number of large explosions in Vale were rather limited. "Albeit, I cannot say that I did it. I was partnered with- "
Glynda hesitated. What should she say to her fellow professors? They weren't in full possession of Ozpin's secrets. They had some of them and knew that Ozpin was part of something and that he was dedicated to protecting the human race. But they didn't know about his full history or his status as a former wizard.
So how could she define Shirou Emiya?
"-an untrained Huntsman," she decided on. "He didn't know what Aura or Semblance was but managed to awaken his own and developed it to great effect."
Close enough. His displayed magical abilities were close enough to an odd yet strong Semblance that he could possibly hide his magic as a Semblance.
"Well, well, that is interesting," Peter said, rubbing his moustache. "Reminds me of the time that I met that one girl in a village in Atlas that singlehandedly held off a horde of Grimm until I- "
Glynda started to pay less attention to Peter. His stories had real life experience behind them so there was some merit to listening to them. Peter Port did have more experience as a Huntsman than everyone else combined, if you excluded Ozpin.
But at the same time, Peter's memory was exaggerated. Some of his stories had changed over the years as his memory tried to remember whether it was this experience or that experience that he was talking about.
For instance, the current one he was talking about, the one about a red-headed girl dropping a cliff on a horde of Grimm.
"I remember Peter," Glynda said, interrupting the man. "I was the girl, remember?"
"Really?" Peter Port frowned. "I could have sworn that she was a red-head."
"That was my mother," Glynda said flatly. She and her mother did not look that much alike. Their hair colors were different at the very least! "We were visiting my mother's cousin and her son, who had moved to the village. My mother was in the village helping to manage the evacuation while I tried to wipe out the horde by dropping the cliff path on them. Then you came along and finished the job."
"Ah yes," the Grimm Studies Professor chuckled as his memory was rejogged. "You were a passionate teenager back then. A composed, collected, and a rather polite public image but filled with an inner fire to fight and ready to sacrifice."
"Well, yes," Glynda said, somewhat caught on the back foot as Peter gave his impressions of her teenaged self. "I was quite young after all. People do grow up, you know."
"You were the first one to try and give me a gratuitous number of 'thank you's in the middle of combat because 'I don't want to leave any debts unpaid.' Ha ha. But you definitely didn't let that sarcasm and wit come out to play back then," Peter remembered. "Time leaves its marks on us all."
"Oh yes, most definitely," Bart Oobleck jumped in, his high speed still applying to his mouth, even if his body was exhausted. "The effects of time on culture and civilization is, while slower than that on the individual, one of the greatest and most fascinating points of archeology and history! There is much one can learn just by observing how human cultures and individuals reacted to changes in the environment and their fellow humans. The loosening of restraints is one of the signs of the maturation of most civilizations and is typically followed by either the collapse of the civilization or a revolution that redefines the era of said civilization."
"Speaking of collapse," Glynda interrupted, looking up from checking over her equipment. "I am looking forward to actually hitting a bed tonight."
"Yes, we definitely aren't as young as we used to be," Peter chuckled. "Why in my heyday, it was nothing to fight for an entire day and night before working straight through the second day."
As Glynda let her fellow professor prattle on while he prepared his double bed in their accommodated barracks dorm for both him and his wife, who was going to join them once she returned from guarding the evacuation shelters, Glynda worked on taking inventory of the Dust she had left.
It wasn't very good. The spike in Dust prices from Roman's string of thefts had impacted how many Crystals she could afford on her teacher's budget. And she had used more than a few crystals up on the Goliath and the other fighting throughout the city.
A sudden knocking on the dorm caused the three Beacon professors to pause in their bedtime preparations.
Glynda glanced over to her fellows, noting their surprise at having someone knock.
Peter's wife never knocked.
They subtly prepared for combat as they came out to hallway, Glynda grabbing her crop while Peter rummaged for his old battle axe. Bart meanwhile got his weapon into his hand, taking a sip of coffe before zipping over to the door.
A Hunter's job was never done.
Bart opened it, revealing a white haired, tanned and awkward looking individual with a single knapsack slung over his shoulder.
"Hey," Shirou Emiya rubbed the back of his head. "My hotel got bombed by the White Fang so I'm out of a place to sleep for the night. Would you happen to know where I can get a bed for the night at this time?"
"Shirou?" Glynda asked in surprise. She hadn't expected him to show up here or tonight after he said he was going to the hotel.
"Do you know this fellow?" Bart glanced over to Glynda before starting to examine Shirou. "Strange, I'm afraid I don't quite recognize your ethnicity. You have a blend of physical traits from numerous cultures but none of them are combined like what you have."
"I was found and rescued as a kid but my experiences left me with amnesia of my childhood and biological family," Shirou explained to Bart's curiosity.
"Yes, I do know him," Glynda answered Bart's question, a tired curiosity in her tone as to what Shirou was doing here. "Bart, Peter, this is Shirou Emiya, the fellow who I helped take down the Goliaths."
"I didn't do much," Shirou humbly demurred. "Glynda spent a lot longer fighting the Goliath than I did."
"Yes, I did. And then you casually killed the entire herd in two attacks," Glynda rebutted flatly. "Almost as if my own fighting was nothing more than a filibuster."
No, Glynda didn't hold a grudge for him wasting her time due to a miscommunication. Not anymore.
"Ah, sorry." Shirou awkwardly chuckled. "But I did far more collateral damage to the city than you did."
"Yes, that poor mall and street will never be the same again," Glynda said drily, thinking of the crater and vanished mall.
"Oh ho ho ho," The portly professor laughed loudly as he slapped Shirou Emiya on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "You are too modest, Shirou Emiya. Taking down prey like a Goliath should be a story for the ages. Doing it alongside our brilliant combat professor should only make it more exciting."
"Well, there isn't much to tell," Shirou said uncomfortably under the expectant stares of the two male professors before changing the subject. "But I'm still looking for a good place to sleep. Every place I've tried has been full."
The three professor's eyes slid over to the empty third bed in the barracks.
Peach was rooming in her family home with her extensive family.
And, Glynda realized, she needed to keep an eye on Shirou Emiya until they could find Ozpin's next host.
"We have a spare bed here," Glynda spoke up quickly before either of her comrades could think of something. "You can join us if you are lacking anything."
"I couldn't impose-" Shirou started before getting slapped on the shoulder again by Peter.
"Nonsense!" Peter laughed boisterously. "For a story like the Goliaths, you have to tell us! I have a few of my own that compare as well. But-" the man yawned loudly. "thaaat will have to be tomorrow. It's rather late and every good Huntsman and Huntress needs their sleep."
As if on cue, a snore erupted from Oobleck, who had just fallen asleep leaning against the wall.
Shirou cocked an eyebrow at the sleeping professor. "All right," he agreed, fighting back his own yawn. "Just for tonight then. Which beds are open?"
"That one," Glynda pointed to the bed on the far left.
Shirou nodded and walked over to the bed, dropping his bag onto the ground.
And fell onto the bed, face first, and was out like a light.
Glynda and Peter looked at him amused.
"Well, at least he knows how to sleep," Peter chuckled.
"Indeed," Glynda agreed with a tired smile. "I'll make sure Shirou is all right while you take Bart to his bed?"
The next morning, Glynda awoke rather suddenly. And quickly in comparison for how she normally woke up.
She had never allowed herself to become dependent on coffee for waking herself up. Instead, she usually took about 15 minutes to become fully alert when she woke up. But her years in the field had trained her to wake up fast if she wasn't in a secure place.
This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room at Beacon. And there were sounds and odors that she wasn't familiar with floating in the air.
Glynda reached out with her semblance to bring her weapon to hand while she turned her head to look at the source of the noise.
The small kitchen area had been opened up and Shirou Emiya was already moving around in it, doing stuff that kept on emitting those sounds and smells.
It took a while for Glynda to realize that Shirou was cooking. A realization that wasn't helped by his attire.
Glynda dry swallowed.
Shirou Emiya's shirt was off. He still wore a set of black pants, but she wasn't looking at that.
Oh my. His shirt had certainly covered a lot. She had seen active Hunters with less ripped muscles and worse body shape than his. Although he did have a lot of scars. Enough to indicate that he had fought powerful foes and had came out alive.
Not to mention that she could now see that his legs were much longer than his attire had indicated. His belt was holding up his pants and they were riding higher than she had thought just by looking at him yesterday. How long must his legs be?
Glynda was suddenly acutely aware of her own appearance as she swung her legs out of her bed and looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror in the former officer's quarters. Her hair was uncombed, she had smudges on her clothes and one on her face. Her clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them and she hadn't had a shower since yesterday morning.
She discreetly sniffed herself, and found herself wrinkling her nose at her body odor.
Compared to him, she looked and smelled like a mess.
No fair that a guy could wake up looking as handsome as that, while she looked like a mess.
"Good morning," the man called from the kitchen without looking over his shoulder.
"Good morning, Shirou," Glynda replied, standing up, running her hands through her hair in an attempt to comb it. "Have you been up long?"
"Not that long," the man replied, focusing on the pans and their contents in front of him. "Just up long enough to make breakfast, do a morning workout, and take a shower. Not quite long enough to finish changing before the others needed breakfast though, so sorry about my state of attire."
Glynda brightened at the mention of a shower.
"A shower?" she asked. "Do you know where it is? Are we under any form of water rationing?"
"Haven't heard of rationing the water yet. But the shower is out the door and down the hall a bit," the self-proclaimed magician said. "But I am about to finish up another serving of breakfast so if you want to wait a minute and a half, I'll have it ready and you can eat."
Glynda noted the emptiness of her stomach. But it wasn't polite to take another's breakfast away. "I'll be fine. You can go ahead and eat," she assured the man.
"Your fellow professors, you are all professors at the Huntsman Academy, right?" The man asked questioningly.
"Yes," Glynda affirmed. "Have worked together for years now."
"They already ate and left. I am making enough for you as well," the man continued before whispering, "I hope."
"Excuse me?" Glynda asked, icy frost in her voice. Was he implying that she was a big eater? That she would steal his breakfast? That she was fat?
"Ah, I was just saying I wasn't expecting your fellows to eat as much as they did," Shirou hurriedly explained, flipping something, Glynda didn't know what it was but it looked like a weird pancake, before turning around and trying to explain. "I had thought that I had made enough for the five of us, but the Ports and Oobleck ate a lot more than I thought they would. Guess I didn't account for how much fighting we all did last night."
"Ah," Glynda sighed, her pride assuaged even as the familiar shame for the antics of her fellow teachers set in. "I apologize for my fellows. I am sure they didn't intend to eat all of your portion as well."
"Eh, its no problem," Shirou shrugged as he leaned against the small counter space. "I like to cook. It's a good way to destress. Reminds me of the days I used to cook with my sister. And food is better when eaten with others anyways."
As the man obviously reminisced over his days with his sister, his smile was nostalgic. It also made Glynda want to smile as well for some reason.
"I am sure," Glynda agreed but then realized something. "Didn't the Ports and Bart already eat with you?"
"They woke up as I was cooking the first breakfast," Shirou explained, turning to put on either seasoning or spices onto the food. "By the time I finished, cooking, they all were finished eating."
The man chuckled good-humoredly. "You would think they were starving or something, the way the three of them stared at the last serving. Like it was a Holy Grail."
"A…holy grail?" Glynda asked confused at the term.
"A wish-granting device," Shirou explained, waving it away casually.
Or so he wanted to make it seem. Glynda caught him tensing up for a second before he forced himself to relax. Like he had accidentally revealed something that he didn't want to.
He wasn't too bad of a liar, not a good one but not too bad at it. Unfortunately, she was a teacher. She had long ago learned to recognize when people were lying to her and when they weren't.
Which had involved learning that, yes, sometimes a Grimm did actually eat their homework.
Not that she let that team off for it. She just told them to submit it late and she would apply the proper penalities when grading it.
Especially after she had found a second team try to make that excuse reality. Although to be fair, she was more concerned about how much effort the second team had poured into getting the Beowolf and later the Boarbatusk to eat their essays rather than fight it. If they had poured half of that effort into rewriting the essay…
Students. The Hunter Academies accepted the best but sometimes that resulted in a lot of excellent effort going into the strangest of things.
"I see," she said neutrally. Should she pry into it or not?
"Ah, it's done," Shirou said flipping whatever it was he was cooking one last time and then onto the stack he had on a plate. "Come sit down and eat."
"I can't just-" Glynda started to excuse herself before Shirou interrupted her.
"It's fine. It's more than I can eat on my own. Besides, meals are better when they are shared," he nodded as he placed the stack of strange pancake-like things on the small table that hadn't been there last night.
Glynda hesitated as the emptiness in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten for a while. And it did smell really good and, well, if he didn't mind…
"All right," she resigned herself to it. It was cheaper than going to a restaurant, no matter how bad the food might be. Or good, judging by the scent. "But first let me wash my hands."
"Oh, good idea," Shirou said as he served one of the disks onto one of the two plates left on the table. "I already washed up before cooking but it might not be bad to wash my hands again."
Glynda nodded as she turned towards the door, intending to use the washroom's sinks and soap to wash.
"You can use the sink you know," the white-haired man said as he started pouring a sauce over the flat food. "I got some soap out on my morning run. As well as most of the ingredients."
Glynda stopped in her tracks. "Alright." She agreed as she passed the table to get to the kitchen sink, which was full of dirty dishes from earlier.
As she started the process of washing her hands, she asked a question that had been on her mind. "What did you make? If you don't mind me asking."
"Okonomiyaki," the man said, the foreign word rolling off his tongue. "You can think of it as a cross between a pizza and a pancake from my home. It isn't quite like either or anything else you have here, but your friends liked it."
"They'll eat anything," Glynda said drily. "Port has told tales of him living off tree bark before. And some of his comments about how to recognize types of trees are… concerning."
"I can imagine," Shirou replied in an equally dry tone. "Unfortunately, I used cabbage and vegetables instead of tree bark so you'll have to live without the experience."
"Appreciated," Glynda said as she dried her hands off on the towel. "I can live for a few more decades without being able to tell Maple Oak from Poison Oak by their taste alone."
Shirou snorted to hide a laugh at that.
Glynda subtly smiled at making the man laugh.
Before she took a fork and knife and cut up the okono- okonomiya- okonomiyo?- whatever it was before taking a bite.
Then she paused, letting the food sit upon her tongue before chewing.
Oh, this was really good. A lot better than she had expected.
Her stomach seemed to rumble quietly and happily, pleased at the food she was offering to it. Fortunately, it was quiet, not loud enough for the cook to hear.
She would have never lived it down if it had been heard.
But Glynda found that she couldn't stop her fork and knife from attacking the new food, sending tribute to her mouth before making its way to her stomach.
Shirou came back, this time wearing a shirt, and sat down, grabbing an okonomiyaki—that was the word—and put it on his plate, applying more sauce from the bowl on the table onto his.
"What is that sauce?" Glynda asked, finishing up her first foreign pancake.
"It doesn't have a name," Shirou said, shrugging. "I just made it from variety of ingredients and sauces. It's a brand-new mixture and I never got around to giving it a name. Goes well with the okonomiyaki though according to Peter."
"So, homemade?" Glynda asked, eyebrow raised.
Shirou smiled and took a bite.
Glynda grabbed the spoon in the sauce and dabbed some on her okonomiyaki, spreading it like she had watched Shirou do before taking a bite.
Delicious!
Glynda sighed in satisfaction, her belly pleasantly full as she laid her fork down, the last of breakfast gone.
Pity, she wouldn't have minded another.
"Thank you for the food, Shirou," Glynda said as she stood up, grabbing the dirty plates from the table.
"No problem," Shirou said from the sink where he was testing the temperature of the water. "You seemed to like it and good food is meant to be enjoyed."
Glynda ignored the slight rush of blood to her cheeks as she remembered her unseemly rush to devour the food. Her childhood etiquette tutor would be embarrassed if she had seen how Glynda had just eaten.
Not that she had broken any important rules, it was just…
She wasn't supposed to eat that fast. Prevented conversation from happening as her tutor had taught. A stately pace, lending itself to paying attention to her host or fellow guests, was to be done at all meals with others.
However, this isn't a formal meal, Glynda reminded herself. Therefore, she didn't have to eat like she was meeting with the sponsors of Beacon, politicians, or the other leaders of Remnant like she had for the duration of the Vytal Festival.
Her conscience wrestled down into subjection, Glynda looked up in time to see Shirou grab the scrubber.
"I'll wash the dishes," Glynda hurriedly volunteered.
When she had been in the field with her team, she had been assigned the duty of washing the dishes after the first time her team had eaten her try at cooking.
And every time after that. Maybe her blackened, salty and over-spiced food had not been appreciated?
In Glynda's defense, growing up as an upper-class girl did not lend oneself to knowing how to cook.
On the other hand, her semblance was excellent for washing dishes. Once she stopped breaking the dishes from gripping too hard with her Semblance.
"No, I can do it," Shirou refused, not stopping from washing the dishes.
"You cooked, so it is only fair for me to wash," Glynda insisted, moving next to the taller man.
"Nah, I enjoy working in the kitchen. It's no bother," Shirou rebutted as he turned to face her.
Shirou was taller than her, Glynda discovered. Without her high heels, she had to look up to meet his eyes.
They were a warm grey, with a hint of good humor in them.
Glynda felt her throat dry but pushed on, swallowing past her awareness of just how attractive the man was.
"I must insist," Glynda said, trying to get the sink. "I would feel like I am taking advantage of you if you both cooked and cleaned up."
"Then take advantage," Shirou easily countered. "I'll forgive you so just leave the dishes behind."
"I am less concerned with needing your forgiveness than with my own feelings of guilt," Glynda parried. "Besides, dish-washing was my contribution to my own Hunter team for domestic duties. Leaving it to another would be negligence. While some people can let themselves go lazy, I refuse to be them."
"Then fall to the lazy side here," Shirou proposed. "You have your own duties, as both professor and Huntress. Spend your efforts there rather than on dishes."
"I refuse," Glynda immediately discarded Shirou's proposal. "The lazy side offers an inferior retirement program. I would rather not fall into the habit of not contributing in the domestic side now that we have to be more self-reliant. It is counter-productive."
She would miss Beacon's cafeteria. So many types of tea, wide varieties of food from all across Remnant, and leftovers available at whatever hour she was still up and working.
Shirou's lips twitched upwards.
Glynda pressed on. "And this is a refreshing break from the unlimited paperwork of the last week. I would greatly appreciate it if you would let me wash them while…"
Glynda trailed off. What would Shirou be doing? She knew what she would be doing, taking care of and representing Beacon now that Ozpin was dead-
Ozpin. Her tutor, her teacher, her leader, and her friend. Now dead and gone. Not forever, but he would be with his new host and moving on in his immortal quest.
Glynda felt a fresh wave of grief surge over her.
Last night, Jaune and the survivors of his team had told her that Ozpin was dead. Jaune hadn't seen Ozpin die, for which Glynda was thankful for. Jaune didn't need to see someone die yet. He should keep that innocence for a few more years preferably. But Ozpin had told Jaune that he would hold off the Fall Maiden while Pyrrha and Jaune escaped.
Given that Pyrrha was dead at the hands of the new Fall Maiden, it seemed guaranteed that Ozpin was either dead or crippled.
And given how strong Ozpin was, Glynda didn't doubt for a second that the new Fall Maiden had killed him rather than leave him alive at her back.
A hand landed on her shoulder, gently shaking her from her thoughts.
"You alright?" Shirou asked, eyes soft in concern.
"I'm fine," Glynda nodded tersely before she took a mental step back.
She needed to mourn later-
Actually, this would be the best time to mourn, Glynda realized. She needed to get to work but she needed to stabilize herself. Let herself start to come to grips with the loss of Ozpin, Pyrrha, several students, numerous lives, and Beacon itself.
"Please," she nearly whispered; throat tight from the effort of holding back her tears.
Shirou examined her face for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Alright," he said, laying down the sponge in his other hand before stepping back. "I'll let you take the dishes today. And-"
Shirou hesitated before awkwardly patting her shoulder again. "-you don't have to hold back for anyone. Take your time and let yourself grieve. There is no shame in grieving for people you have lost."
Glynda rigidly held herself, not trusting herself to break down if she reacted to Shirou's words.
Shirou gave one last awkward pat before stepping away and letting her have the sink.
Glynda stepped forward physically grabbing the sponge to start on the dishes, ignoring Shirou as he walked to his bed and started going through his bag.
If she cried while running the water, Shirou didn't say anything to indicate if he heard.