(A/N) 123 reviews, 800+ favs, and 1200+ follows over two chapters. Nice.
Seriously though, I'm glad that people are liking this story. It was made on a whim, but I'm happy that some semblance of the vision I had for it has been communicated effectively.
As for the direction that the story will be taking in the long run, we'll have to see. There will be "sensei" moments, there will be "Archer" moments, and there will be character interaction and relationship development as well. That means that we'll have to find a happy balance between school/teacher life, home life, hero work, and whatever other action the canon storyline (that I keep) drags in.
For this reason, there will probably (almost definitely) be a great difference between this chapter and the next, and considering what will be coming up, it should be clear as to why that is.
For the most part, this chapter exists to introduce plot devices and elements that will be experimented with over the course of the story.
At this point, a lot of the changes (mostly in the students) are subtle, but they're definitely there. Most of that stuff will be heavily nuanced until the foundation for heavier changes caused by Shirou can really settle in. The second half of this chapter is essentially me laying some that foundation.
As I don't think there's anything else that I'm forgetting to mention, I leave you all here.
On a side note, I've gotta stop uploading when I'm half asleep. Can you imagine how much better these chapters would come out if I made my final revisions while lucid?
Please enjoy!
X
When Shirou got home that evening, he put on the electronic kettle to boil and sat at the little island in his kitchen. He stared into his granite countertop as he waited; so preoccupied was he with other thoughts that he forgot to get some tea bags ready.
He kept thinking back to the situation had with his new student, Midoriya Izuku.
More specifically, his encounter with the boy's quirk.
An average-sized metal buckler appeared in his hand out of thin air. He examined it more closely in a fruitless attempt to learn something new from the shield traced from the formidable powers of All Might, the top hero in Japan.
It was the single most useless and underwhelming thing that his quirk had ever conceived.
The quirk belonging to Emiya Shirou was fascinating and intricate in function, but it was quite easy to explain to someone as long as the explanation was kept simple. Whenever an emitter-type quirk was spotted, a type of secondary memory bank would "register" that quirk and force it to fit a physical mold that would allow him to manifest its shape in the real world at will.
Usually, when the often-flashy quirks of heroes were in question, his creations were close to something out of a fantasy novel or those old-fashioned comic books. Beyond that, it was almost a rule of thumb that the more powerful the quirk, the better the weapon would be.
Naturally, one would think that the super strength of the greatest hero of all time would be the strongest weapon of them all. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
The buckler wasn't a lackluster creation because it wasn't meant for offense, nor was it because All Might's super strength wasn't all that it was chalked up to be. It was a dud because it didn't hold the properties of a "super strength" quirk at all.
By all accounts, it was just a normal shield, but it had a strange gimmick that made it more wear-resistant the longer that it was manifested. It wasn't anything more than a gimmick because it strengthened at a snail's pace.
For all he knew, the shield might become indestructible if left out for long enough, but unfortunately for him, his quirk couldn't keep its creations around for too long without putting a serious strain on his "second consciousness".
Was there something to it that he wasn't understanding? Unlikely, but not impossible. If the rate of growth of the shield was any indication, it would take someone like All Might generations to become as strong as he was. The man was middle-aged at best.
What did this have to do with Midoriya?, one may ask
A second shield was forced into existence, identical in every which way to the first save for a minor difference in coloration.
"Could they be related?" Shirou muttered to himself.
It was the simplest explanation. Though two quirks were rarely identical, experience told him that family members tended to make the most similar-looking weapons.
That had to be it. He refused to believe that there could be two different quirks that made such a mess of his own.
Shirou sighed and got up to take the water off the element before it got too hot.
The resemblance between the kid's quirk and All Might's was only part of the issue. The priority was finding a system that would help Midoriya get used to his strength without hurting himself.
He had a similar dilemma, once upon a time. Few people knew of his "second mind" and thought that he simply "remembered" a previously made quirk weapon. The truth was that every weapon was stored in that "memory bank", and every weapon that he "took out" would wear the gates open until his two consciousnesses would meld together. The end result would be that he put himself in a temporarily-vegetative state until he recovered.
Again, his quirk wasn't as simple as he liked to make it sound.
The point was, there was a factor to Midoriya's quirk that he didn't understand yet. Without a doubt, it held the key to being able to use it without it backfiring. Assuming that All Might's really was identical in function, it couldn't be written off as a side effect that couldn't be helped.
Shirou poked his head into the adjacent dining room and snatched the pen and notebook that laid on the coffee table.
He positioned himself once more at the island with his tea in one hand and a pen in the other. For whatever reason, the kitchen had an infinitely better light fixture than the living room.
His first idea came quickly. Perhaps something similar to his own system? Self-hypnosis could be viable if it was a question of a mental block. For instance, whenever he needed to use a larger quantity of weapons, he would–
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
His writing hand paused mid-scribble. It must have been at least half past eight, so visitors were uncommon at this hour.
He walked up to his front entrance cautiously. He looked through the peephole–
"Eh?" Shirou opened the door. "Rumi?"
She ignored him, slipped under his arm, and marched dutifully into his house.
"I have some good ideas," spoke the white-haired woman over her shoulder. "Let's make this quick, though. It's getting pretty late."
"You don't say?" he mumbled through a wry smile.
The door was shut, and he met his impromptu guest in the living room.
She took off her beige gabardine coat and threw it carelessly onto one of two loveseats facing each other across the coffee table.
"I could've taken that, you know. I do own coat hangers."
She scoffed. "As if I'd let you. For how much I coughed up for this thing, I'm not going to risk you ruining it."
He stared at the apparently-pricy vestment strewn haphazardly over his furniture amusedly.
"Right. What are you here for, exactly?"
"Eh?" she narrowed her eyes at him with a frown. Her expression looked like it was pulled straight off one of those high school delinquents from kids anime. "What kind of sorry question is that?"
Shirou defaulted to head-scratching. "Ah, well… people don't exactly drop by very often…"
"And whose fault do you think that is?" she asked with a shit-eating grin plastered from ear to ear. "You clean the damn place like they do" –Rumi slapped the dustless couch demonstratively– "but when have you actually invited anyone over?"
He frowned with crossed arms. "Well, that one time I had you over for lunch, and I made the masala–"
"The fuckin' chicken curry?" she squawked. "Back when you moved in?"
"I've been busy, you know?" he deflected.
"We've all been busy!" she destroyed what semblance of an argument that he had. "You practically lived for playing 'dinner host' back in high school, and now the best that any of us can get is a card on holidays? Talk about married to your job."
"We have the same job."
"So?"
Shirou buried his face in his hands with a sigh, and fell back into the loveseat. Rumi did the same.
"Moving on, what's this about 'ideas'?"
"I'm glad you asked."
The rabbit woman tucked her hand under her coat and pulled out…
And pulled out…
…
"How did you fit that whole binder under your jacket?"
"It's a trench coat," she corrected without answering. A four-inch binder was dropped heavily onto the coffee table. "It's what I got planned for the syllabus."
"The syllabus?" asked the host uneasily.
She nodded, her mutant ears flopping as she did so. "The syllabus. For your Hero Ideologies class."
"Your syllabus for my class?"
"Mhm."
"But it's my class!" he all but shouted.
Unabashedly, she dismissed his frustration with a wave. "Don't get your knickers twisted. It's only for the parts that I'll be there for."
Shirou was starting to get a bad feeling about this. The amount of paper sandwiched between that binder couldn't possibly be indicative of a plan to "drop by for a guest lecture sometime".
He closed his eyes and shot air through his nose.
"Fine," he relented. "Let's see it."
She grinned and slid the binder his way.
He flipped the cover, and asked her, "Where did you find the time to put all of this together?"
"I made time," she answered.
Her poor secretaries. He envied them none.
Sluggishly, he flipped the front cover and began to read over the first printed document. What was up with all of this? An outsider would think that Principal Nezu came to her with the job offer instead of him.
Of course, with the stuff in her permanent record, that would never happen. Their old teachers probably still had nightmares because of the crap she got up to during class time.
He paused.
Shirou swept his hands under the binder and grabbed it with both hands.
"This is…" he trailed off.
"This is?" she quirked a brow.
"This isn't terrible."
"…"
"…"
Rumi scrunched her coat into a ball and hurled it at his face. "Piss right off! 'Isn't terrible' my ass!"
Shirou pulled the coat off his face while mumbling something resembling "Didn't you say this was expensive?"
He sighed once more. "It's just, you know… Last time we worked together, it didn't go so well. I'm surprised that you came up with this, is all."
The woman leaned back into her seat with a sneer. "If you're talking about the group report we wrote that one time in our second year at UA, I'll knee you in the face. It was like, nine years ago."
The number two hero pouted. "You practically dragged us down to a failing grade."
With a grunt, she leaned forward and got up from her seat. Calmly circling the coffee table, she grabbed him by the back of the head.
Despite her warning, he wasn't expecting it, and thus was not prepared when it actually happened.
"OW! You kneeb me in da nobe!"
"I told you that I would!" she smiled vindictively as her friend clutched his aching face. "Besides, a 'B' is hardly a failing grade, you fuckin' Goody Two-Shoes!"
Shirou's eyebrow twitched vigorously. Few would know it because of his altruism, but amongst those that were acquainted with him, his temper was famously short. "What's wanting a good grade have to do with being a 'Goody Two-Shoes'?"
"Everything, Mister 'School Brownie'."
"Compared to you, Miss 'JD', everyone was a brownie."
"You still are a brownie."
"It can't be called 'being a brownie' if we do it professionally, you–" he forced himself to stop. There was no way that he'd let himself get dragged into another argument with this woman. They were supposed to be done with this kind of thing when they were teenagers.
The man got to his feet and stomped back into his kitchen.
"Next week is fine," he said once she was out of sight, referencing one of the dates in her printed documents.
Rumi huffed. "Fuckin' right, it is."
"…"
"Earl Grey for me. No sugar, and use skim–"
"Skim milk. I know," he shouted back impatiently.
She heard a commotion in the kitchen involving clanging pots and slamming cupboard doors. Shirou was probably going to come out with some sort of accompanying snack to go with the beverage, despite his frustrations.
It was just the kind of person that he was. Being a good host was more important practically anything else to that man.
"This is nice," she whispered to herself with a smile. Rumi threw herself back into her loveseat and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table.
Acting all business-like with Shirou was no fun, and that seemed to be his default state of mind recently. It was refreshing to be able to go at it like they used to, even if it wasn't the "responsible adult" thing to do.
Her nose wiggled.
That smelled good. What was he making? She almost forgot how good his homecooked meals were. Despite her dietary preferences, she made exceptions when it was something that came out of his kitchen.
A shame it would only be something thrown together to go with bagged tea. There was no doubt that it would be even better if he had the time to make a full dinner.
She should come over more often. Salads and unseasoned legumes were alright for calories' sake, but a cheat day every now and then was fine, too.
X
"Emiya-san. Kayama-san. Good morning!"
Shirou lowered his instant coffee from his lips and looked to the door of the teacher's lounge to find the hulking frame of his fellow first-year teacher.
The younger of the two men tilted his head. "Welcome back. How was the class?"
All Might scratched his cheek and shifted on his feet.
"Well…"
Midnight, who was the only other teacher in the room, laughed right in his face. "Rowdy bunch, aren't they? I figured as much from what I've seen from 'em."
"I'm very sorry," the younger man apologized. Though he was just their homeroom teacher, he felt as though he had to take responsibility for them if they caused undue stress for another instructor. "I didn't expect any issues from them. If you have any complaints, I'll be sure to relay them next period."
It would be his first Hero Ideologies class. Starting off with a lecture wouldn't be ideal, but it was important for the kids to understand the importance of being respectful of their future profession's veterans.
All Might waved both hands in front of himself emphatically. "No, no! That won't be necessary. It's just that some of them have… strong personalities, to say the least."
Shirou took a quick sip of his coffee without losing eye contact. "No issues, then?"
The elder hero grimaced. He took the seat next to Class 1-A's homeroom teacher. "I wouldn't say that, either. There were some skirmishes that got a little more heated than they were supposed to."
Shirou quirked a brow. Considering that they were running the first-year Villain-Hero drill, some conflict was not only expected, but encouraged in order to properly grade everyone.
"Young Bakugou and Midoriya, for example."
Archer's eyes narrowed.
"Eh? Isn't Midoriya that green-haired ball of fluff?" asked Midnight incredulously. "I didn't peg him for someone with anger issues."
"No, he is not," All Might agreed. "Young Bakugou was most definitely the aggressor, but young Midoriya was unable to compartmentalize his own grievances and the two of them derailed their entire match. I had to send young Midoriya to the infirmary."
Shirou tisked. "Anything else?"
"Nothing as extreme at that. Young Yaoyorozu seemed down on herself and young Todoroki ended the match faster than I could effectively mark him, but you'll see the details once I finish the evaluation report."
Internally, Shirou made note of those names. He would check to see if he needed to add more to that list once he went over the reports, but they would be his priority for now.
The best way that he could think of to sort things out with them was to sit them down and talk to them one on one. It wouldn't be pretty –he'd never done anything of the sort, after all– but it seemed like the right thing for a teacher to do.
Particularly in Bakugou's case. Considering the kid's raw talent, he would need to learn to carry himself more responsibly if he hoped to reach his full potential. Shirou stood by the point he was trying to make when the class representatives were chosen, and it was evident that Bakugou had yet to understand his position.
He peered at the clock hanging over the doorway.
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to have a chat with any of them right now. His first class would begin in seven minutes, and he should set the right example for the students by being punctual.
Shirou guzzled the last of his coffee and thoroughly washed his mug in the nearby sink.
"I'll be off now."
"Tell me how it goes!" Midnight shot him a thumbs up and a smile.
"Your ideals will shine through brilliantly, Emiya-san. It will be a smashing success, no doubt."
He blushed at the praise.
"I'll do my best," he answered them with a bow, and left the teacher's lounge.
X
He reached the classroom door, and Shirou realized something the moment his fingers touched it.
This wouldn't be anything like homeroom.
He didn't have the luxury of having a class outline provided for him like the one he had for homeroom, nor did he have Aizawa suggestions in the margins to help him keep his pace. This was his class, and its success would depend entirely on him.
With a small chuckle, he admitted that it was a little stressful. Stress was far from something that he was unused to, but this kind of felt like a different animal altogether.
He entered the room, and almost immediately frowned.
There was tension in the room, and even someone as unobservant as he could tell that some of these kids weren't in the right state of mind.
He looked at Bakugo first. His initial impression was that he was off in his own little world, but it was just as likely that he was trying to avoid the glares that he was getting from the company to his left.
Todoroki –Endeavor's son, if he recalled correctly– was acting in much the same way. Nothing so scathing was being sent his way, but there were definitely a few nervous glances being thrown around.
Midoriya wasn't here, so he was probably still being held in the infirmary. He would most likely be receiving some sort of note from the head nurse Recovery Girl at a later date.
It was a testament to the strangeness of it all that the class only noticed him coming in after Iida jumped to his feet and announced, "Welcome, Emiya-sensei!"
It was a little strange to hear that form of address, but he could get used to it. That said, shouldn't the class representative be the one in charge of these sorts of greetings?
Ah, Miss Class President thought so too. She was in some strange limbo between getting up and saying something or slipping further into her seat. She was clearly conflicted, which was a stark contrast to her palpable self-confidence from the day before.
What could have changed so much over a single morning period?
Shirou shared a moment of silence with his students where neither really knew what they were supposed to do. Seeing as how everything was likely the way it was because of the "altercations" that All Might mentioned, he had half a mind to lecture them all here and now to set them straight.
But no. For all he knew, that might've made everything worse instead of better. His one-on-one talks would remain one-on-one.
Instead, he posed a question to the room.
"What is a hero?"
It was a little out of nowhere, admittedly, so there were no immediate reactions. Darn. He should have made a more worthwhile effort to introduce the subject matter of the class before getting right into it.
Eventually, though, hands began to pop up tentatively.
Shirou pointed out the studious-looking boy at the front. "Iida."
Once more, the boy stood ramrod straight. "Sensei! A hero is an individual licensed by the government to use his or her quirk in the interest of the public order. The profession was established as far back as the beginning of the quirk era as a response to combat the illegal or otherwise irresponsible quirk use."
Shirou nodded. "A textbook answer. Anyone else?"
Those who were already lowering their hands lifted them back in the air, though there was visible confusion on many of their faces. Most were probably wondering if Iida's answer wasn't satisfactory.
Shirou's eyes surfed over his crowd.
"Todoroki."
The boy's eyes widened marginally. His hand wasn't up, so he wasn't expecting to be singled out with everyone else volunteering to answer.
The boy didn't answer right away, but he was definitely thinking about it. He might have been reclusive, but thankfully that didn't mean that he was uncooperative.
"…Someone that everyone respects," Todoroki settled with.
Their teacher smiled. "In what sense?"
Some in the class were catching on that he wasn't actually looking for a definition.
"Heroes exist to be respected," expanded Todoroki after a moment. "They're expected to maintain the public order, and that means making sure that everyone feels safe when they're around. If no one respects you, then you're just a glorified bounty hunter."
An interesting take. Either way, Todoroki was a smart kid to have caught on to what he meant so quickly.
Iida was right about what he said, technically, but he meant the question more along the lines of "What does being a hero mean to you?"
Bakugou clicked his tongue and crossed his arms.
"You disagree. Is there something you'd like to add?" Emiya-sensei asked.
The spiky-haired boy glared back at him challengingly for a moment before scoffing. Bakugo had some reservations about joining in, it would seem. "I think it's a load of shit. If you're strong enough to kill the bad guys dead, then you're a hero."
Shirou's train of thought did some mental gymnastics. His first reaction was to chide the boy for his crude language. Once he moved past that, however, he decided that there was a semblance of a counterargument to be found in the violent and "unheroic" statement.
"Care to elaborate?"
Bakugo turned to look Todoroki right in the eyes. "Respect doesn't mean fu– anything if the villain wins. You've gotta crush them, or else they'll never learn their lesson."
Without being prompted, Yaoyorozu chipped in, "Excuse me, but I think there's more to it than that!"
The class president drew the attention of her peers. "You can't just have one or the other. Both qualities are needed to be a capable hero."
She turned to the number two hero in the country for validation. "Like you said yesterday, Sensei, versatility is important."
There was an overlapping voicing of agreement. Despite his desire to stay out of the discussion as much as possible, Shirou had to admit that he did, in fact, say something along those lines.
"Oh!" shouted Ashido. "That's why heroes gotta be stylish!"
"Totally!" Hagakure agreed.
"Following the rules is important, too!" tried Iida once he found the pace of the conversation.
"But the most important part is l'élégance, non?"
"Heroes gotta be manly!"
"And cute."
Like he had hoped, the topic at hand had drifted away from him as the focal point and had been reconducted amongst the students.
Whether a group handled a disagreement in a civilized manner was the difference between an argument and a Socratic discussion.
Shirou smiled. It would seem as though his students had greatly differing opinions.
Whether it be agreement, dismissal, or simple disapproval, it didn't take longer than half an hour for all twenty of his students to take some sort of stance. At that point, Shirou chalked the exercise up to have been a great success, and decided to move on to the point he was trying to make.
"This will be your homework for this lesson," he spoke in a voice that he hoped wasn't too loud, but audible enough to get everyone's attention right away.
All twenty heads found him, most of which with expressions filled with dread. The word "homework" would never be appreciated amongst students.
"I want you all to remember your stances on this mater. At the end of the semester, I'll be asking you the same question."
Noticing that the "discussion period" was over, Yaoyorozu lifted her arm.
"Yes, Yaoyorozu?"
"Emiya-sensei, we only have a few months to cover the whole semester. Do you expect our answers to change between now and then?"
Shirou gave her a delicate smile. "Maybe 'expect' is a strong word, but you'll definitely learn to see a lot of things differently, I promise you that."