(A/N) Hey everyone! Get again, it's been a minute. I wish I could do something more for you guys, but all I can do is promise that this will see more frequent updates once Fear the Superhero is done.

Shoutout to saintpatrick17 and every one of you on my Patr eon who voted on the illustration for this chapter. It's a bit... much for Spacebattles, but the uncropped image can be found on Questionable Questing.

Cheers!

X

"And… hold that! Right there. That's the one. She's a beauty. Okay, next!"

The smile pinned to Shirou's face slowly slipped away as he sighed. He moved away from the pot-covered stovetop and stood over a piping hot English breakfast beautifully arranged on his kitchen counter. He forced the smile to come back.

A young man dressed in sweats and a hoodie lifted his expensive-looking camera to his eye and snapped a photo of the perfectly-crafted scene of a uniform-clad hero showing off his domestic talents. After a few flashes, he shot the red-haired man a thumbs up.

"All good, Bossman! That should be enough for your Insta. I'll have the post up within the hour, and I'll get to FB and Twitter after that."

Shirou whipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.

"Did we really need so many?" the pro hero asked. "I have class in an hour, so–"

"Your class is why we gotta do this, my guy!" exclaimed the younger man animatedly. "Your secretary has me on the payroll for a reason. You've barely made any public appearances these past few weeks. Your pop-rating dropped, like, uh…"

"Seven percent," offered Shirou.

"Right! Seven percent in less than a month! It'd be even worse if that whole thing at UA didn't just happen. Ya get me? These aren't brownie points we're fishing for. We're making up for the points that we've already lost."

It wasn't like he didn't know that. Public image was everything for a hero, and unfortunately, it was a fickle thing. He was going to call his social media manager eventually, but he would have preferred if they could have met up after his classes instead of before.

Shirou hummed.

"Right. Anyway, have you already been paid?"

"Not yet, but–"

"Ah. I can pay you now, then. Is e-transfer fine, or do you prefer a cheque?"

His socials manager waved his hands in front of him.

"Don't worry about it, dude! I'm not stressed about the bag. Miss Secretary's got me covered."

The hero offered him a tiny smile– one much more genuine than the ones he threw on for the pictures.

"If you're sure, then. You've got everything you need?"

"Yeah, s'all here." He tapped his camera. "I'll see you around! Probably soon if–"

Shirou snorted.

"Sure, sure. Get going. I'm out the door in a second too, and I don't want to lock you in–

The redhead's phone rang. Cut off mid-sentence, he slowly lifted the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Check the location I sent to you! Highway! Eastbound!" shouted the voice of his secretary. "We've got a villain attack, and you're the closest to ground zero!"

That was all he needed to hear. His phone was tossed onto the nearby countertop and he ran out the door.

The cameraman blinked owlishly, realizing that he had been left alone in the house.

"…I'll just… let myself out, then?"

X

"Hey, come to think of it, isn't Sensei here by now, usually?"

Ashido-san's remark got the rest of class 1-A thinking. It wasn't that homeroom was about to start or anything, but their teacher was more often than not the first one to arrive in the room. There were still a few students trickling in, but soon enough everyone would be here.

Izuku, lost in that very thought, absentmindedly pulled out his phone once he heard the familiar sound of a push notification. His far-off gaze focused quickly on the tiny screen once he realized exactly what the notification was for.

"Eh!?"

The local news was covering some sort of high-speed chase. He quickly opened the stream and winced at the blaring noise coming from his speaker. He thought it was on mute!

"Deku-kun?"

Urakaka-san peeked over his shoulder to see what the commotion was about. He turned the sound down to a respectable volume.

"–have just merged onto the onramp going towards Shizuoka. One of the culprits' quirk seems to be altering the asphalt behind them, which is making the chase difficult for authorities trying to corner them."

Iida-san, who had his arm raised, ready to tell him off for using his cellphone in class, was cut off by Kirishima-san before he could do so.

"Hey, s'that the news? What's up? Grand theft auto?"

This sort of thing wasn't uncommon, but in a society where heroism was the most followed profession in the entertainment industry, tuning into live broadcasts following crimes as they were being committed was pretty much common practice.

Kaminari-san, who was listening in along with everyone else, hummed contemplatively.

"Wait, like the video game?"

Jiro-san scoffed.

"The game's called that because of the crime, dumbass."

"Huh? It's an actual thing!? I just thought it sounded cool!"

While they squabbled, Izuku moved his thumb out of the way to check the headline. His eyes widened.

"It's a robbery. These guys stole half a billion yen from UFJ!"

That was practically unheard of. This wasn't just some everyday bank heist, this was the largest heist in Japanese history.

If they pulled it off, at least.

Soon enough, half the class had packed themselves behind his desk so as to get a glimpse of what was going on.

"Do banks even carry that much physical money?" pondered Yaoyorozu-san. It was a fair question, but Izuku was less curious about the details and more about which hero would turn up to manage the situation.

A few came to mind. For instance, Hawks would be the best fit here: a talented rising star that was fast, technically skilled and didn't even have to touch the ground thanks to his wings. He was practically a hard counter to whatever quirk the villain seemed to be using. It would be interesting to see Mt. Lady here too, actually. Her large size made operating in urban settings difficult, but there wouldn't be much getting in her way on a major highway. Getting there would be the main issue, but she could probably be–

"Archer is on the scene!"

At the mention of their teacher, even those that weren't gathered behind him perked up. Todoroki-san looked away from the window and Kacchan…

Kacchan still wasn't paying attention, actually.

X

"Kehahaha!" laughed one of the villains. His head, masked by a black balaclava, was stuck out the passenger-side window. The man grinned mockingly at the swarm of cop cars and military vehicles hot on their trail.

His hand came out and dropped lifelessly before melting into a colourless sludge. As the substance fell to the ground, the pavement that it touched melted in a similar fashion.

As fast as they were moving, many of their chasers couldn't react in time to swerve out of the way. Their wheels were caught on the semi-liquid substance and it wasn't long before half of the vehicles crashed into each other.

His partner in crime laughed, though as the driver, he didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Good one, Akemi! Your quirk's knockin' those dipshits ass over teakettle! Aniki was right to recommend you for this job. Keep up the good work and I'm sure that–"

The driver had to cut his praise short lest he bites off his own tongue. Something punctured the wheel and the minivan spun out of control.

"Shit!" cursed Akemi. With his head out the window, he could see that an object was stabbed into the back wheel. The tire was losing a lot of air.

First things first: he used his quirk, and his liquefied hand slapped the object out of the way. His appendage then feathered the damaged structure, melting it and subsequently allowing it to solidify as a hotfix. It seemed to have worked since his partner was able to get them steady again.

He watched the left-behind object hit the ground, quickly becoming harder and harder to see as they drove away. He squinted.

…That wasn't a twig. A knife? Where could it have come from? They were on a road in the middle of nowhere. There couldn't have been anyone nearby aside from the police hot on their heels.

The minivan jerked again, and the engine whined. Suddenly, they weren't going as fast as they were before.

"Akemi! What the hell's going on!"

Akemi couldn't respond. His jaw dropped, and his pupils constricted.

A giant sword was buried in the side of their escape vehicle. He didn't know how it got there, but they were lucky that the force of it piercing its way through didn't flat out topple them over.

That thing was massive. It must have weighed a few tons, and he meant that literally. What was–

They crashed, and the distance that they'd been keeping between them and the police was lost in an instant.

X

"Shieeet," exclaimed Kaminari-san. Izuku wouldn't have phrased it quite the same way, but the sentiment was a shared one.

A news helicopter had its cameras on Archer. The man stood atop a building with his signature black bow in hand.

It was so cool, and massive, and unique, and stylish, and– hng! Izuku couldn't help but gush over it every time he saw it on screen. It was practically as tall as he was, and even through his phone's tiny display, he could still see the odd lustre of its black coating.

It was Archer's signature weapon –the reason for his name, most likely– and yet it was an object of mystery just as much as it was an object of public interest. No one really knew where it came from, why he used it, or even what it had to do with his quirk.

That thing was never seen outside of a fight, and rarely when other people were nearby. He hadn't even used it when Black Knight attacked USJ.

Izuku really wanted to ask him about it, but he never found the courage to do so.

"The perpetrators have been apprehended! What a spectacular performance from Archer, sniping the escape vehicle from nearly three kilometres away!"

Kirishima-san laughed.

"Man! That's insane. Is that guy even human?"

"Why are you all acting so surprised?"

Heads turned to the corner of the room where Todoroki-san sat. The boy wasn't facing them, though he continued to speak.

"He's the number one hero in the country aside from All Might himself. He should be able to manage something on this level just fine, right?"

Izuku disagreed. Not with the reasoning, but with the thought process behind it.

Heroes were normal people too. That was why they were so incredible. Saying stuff like "being great is normal for them" diminished their accomplishments, and it diminished what they meant to the people who worshipped them. As someone who'd been quirkless his whole life, he knew it very well: if you thought that a hero was supposed to be better than everyone else, that a hero was just naturally above and beyond what everyone else was capable of, then what good was there to waking up every morning and thinking "I want to be like you"?

Heroes were special, but they worked hard to be special. Special people did special things, but that didn't mean that they shouldn't be praised for it.

Of course, deep in thought as he was, he wasn't the first of his classmates to get his words out.

"C'mon man, don't be like that!" Kirishima-san countered. "It's totally manly regardless!"

"Yeah!" agreed Mineta-san, his head shaking vigorously. "He probably gets soooo many babes!"

That train of thought took off from an entirely different station, but the general idea was still there.

Soon enough, more and more students jumped in to offer their two cents to a boy that looked like he definitely didn't care about what they had to say. The cacophony of chattering and repeating arguments came to an end, however, when a loud "pop!" sliced right through the noise.

It was a very loud pop.

Kacchan's desk was smoking.

"Shut up. You're too loud. Get a hold of yourselves."

They did.

Izuku didn't know how the others took it, but having known the boy for most of his life, he was shocked.

Was Kacchan… trying to keep the peace? The old Kacchan wouldn't have bothered. He really didn't care what other people did as long as it didn't affect him. Was he growing up? From the pained look on his face, it was more likely that he was forcing himself to do this.

…No, he was probably just imagining things. The noise was just getting on Kacchan's nerves. That was the most likely explanation.

Loud classrooms never bothered him before, though…

"Hello, everyone! Sorry for being late."

Heads whipped to the front door. Everyone standing was quick to find their seats.

"Good morning, Sensei!"

The synchronized greetings masked the astonishment in most of their tones.

Emiya-sensei smiled as the bell rang.

"Sorry for cutting it so close today. Let's start with the roll call, shall we?"

But…

But… how?

He was halfway across the city just now… right?

"Ponytail. That's your cue, isn't it?"

Kachhan's words cut right through everyone's stupefaction. Yaoyorozu-san, our class president, sprang to her feet with a stiff back.

"Right!" she exclaimed. "Let's."

Izuku didn't take his eyes off the boy who just spurred the girl to action.

What's up with you, Kacchan?

X

"Hey, kid! Head's up!"

Not cluing in immediately to the fact that he was the "kid" in question, Shirou barely had enough time to react to the duffle bag that had been thrown in his face.

Catching it with hastily-thrown-up arms, he lowered it to find Midnight grinning in her usual coquettish fashion.

"You're barely older than me," the man defended flatly. With his hands full, he couldn't protect himself from the woman when she leaned in to pinch his cheek.

"D'aw, thanks. You flatterer, you," she cooed, squishing his face.

That wasn't at all what he meant.

"Anyway, Senpai. What's this?"

She stopped her abuse of his delicate facial tissues.

"Hm? Oh. Your secretary dropped it off. It's all the stuff you forgot to bring with you when you ran off to deal with that villain attack this morning."

He took a moment to pull back the zipper and rummage through the contents. His phone, his laptop, class notes…

"This would have come in handy earlier today. Not so much now," he remarked honestly. Today's Hero Ideologies class was just another discussion period, so thankfully he didn't need any of the stuff he didn't have with him, but still…

"Ah. Right. I was supposed to give this to you this morning, but I forgot until now."

She stuck her tongue out in a way that he was sure was supposed to be cute. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it didn't suit a thirty-year-old woman.

Shirou could only sigh.

"Thanks anyway. I'll talk to you later, Kayama-senpai. I have to head out."

She hummed.

"Mm. I heard that Mirko got herself hurt. You gonna go check on her?"

The man blinked, stopping in his tracks before he could turn around and leave.

"How did you know?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

"Well… uh… I mean, it could have been something else that you were going to go do, but it's not like it's a crazy concept or anything, right? Considering how you two are, and all that."

He wasn't following.

"How we are?"

"…"

"…"

"Anyway," she continued awkwardly. The woman stared at him with the same type of detached curiosity that one would reserve for a particularly unintelligent zoo animal. "I'll let you get to whatever it is that you think you're doing. See you some other time, I guess."

She turned about-face and waved over her shoulder.

What was that about?

X

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The residence's front door opened inward. Sticking his head out past the entrance was a large, muscular man with white hair and the ears of a rabbit.

"Hm? Oh. Emiya. Come on in."

The homeowner didn't think twice before moving to the side to allow the redhead to pass him. He didn't even bat an eye at the gift basket in the pro hero's arms.

Shirou smiled warmly at the taller man.

"Thanks! I'm here to check in on Rumi. She's probably still sore from the other day."

"Yep," agreed the man flatly. A meaty hand slapped Shirou's back and ushered him into the house. "You want something to drink? I hear you're teaching at UA part-time now. Must've had a long day."

The younger man nodded.

"Thanks, if you don't mind."

"Of course not!" announced a softer voice proudly. A woman with black hair and darker skin peered out from behind the rabbit-eared man. "What would you like? We have alcohol, soft drinks…"

Shirou waved his hands in front of him.

"Water's fine, really."

A cold glass found its way into his hand shortly. The ice cubes inside were still tapping against each other from how quickly it was moved.

"Anything else we can do for you, hun?" Rumi's mother asked, before lowering her voice so as not to be overheard by anyone upstairs. "She's not coercing you into doing something you don't want to do, is she? I promise: she might act all high and mighty, but we're perfectly capable of putting our feet down when push comes to shove."

The pro hero laughed.

"Of course not. I promised that I'd take responsibility here."

The smile on the woman's face didn't budge.

"Right, right," she agreed easily. "You can go on up if you'd like, though as a warning, she's been in a bit of a funk lately."

"Don't worry. I know just the thing to put her in a better mood. I'll be up there for a while, but I'll make sure that the door is closed so that we don't make too much noise."

"Did you bring carrots?" her father asked with a totally straight face.

The red-haired man nodded.

"Yeah. She seems to like them. The ones that I bring her are just the right size– or so she says."

"Well, they are her favourite!" Rumi's mother chirped, seemingly desperate to have something to say.

After a moment of silence, Shirou cleared his throat.

"I'll go on up. Nice seeing you again! Although, if Rumi makes it a habit of letting me find her in bed like this, we might just be seeing a lot more of each other! Haha."

And with that horribly misleading parting joke that would never be interpreted in an appropriate fashion by a reasonable or even remotely normal human being, he disappeared up the stairs.

After waiting a few more seconds to make sure that he wasn't within earshot, the husband leaned over to whisper something to his wife.

"It's weird that he does that, isn't it?"

"So weird."

"He must be doing it on purpose, right?"

"I think he's just a little off between the ears, dear."

X

He opened the door to her bedroom. It was almost exactly how he remembered it: some strange mix of girly and boyish that one couldn't really describe properly without using Rumi as a frame of reference for the descriptor.

It sure did bring back memories, though. How many years had it been since he'd been here? A little under ten? Rumi moved out pretty soon after her solo debut, and there wasn't much of a reason to come here after that.

The woman in question had made herself comfortable underneath the covers of her childhood bed. The only visible parts of her were half a head, her ears, and the hand peaking out to hold a smartphone over her face.

She noticed him the second that he came in.

"Asshat," was the short and sweet greeting that she reserved for him. She glared at Shirou for half a second before turning her attention back to whatever it was that she was doing on her phone.

He frowned.

"What's with the language?"

Her grip slackened. The phone dropped, bounced off her face and landed beside her pillow.

"You're seriously asking that?" she spat out disbelievingly. "You sent me home to my parents!"

The man crossed his arms.

"Of course I did. If I let you stay home on your own, then there'd be no way that you'd actually listen to Recovery Girl's instructions to stay off your feet. You need adult supervision."

"Go fuck yourself."

"I'm not wrong."

She huffed and rolled the other way. He took that as an invitation to sit at the end of her bed and sift through the basket he brought.

A Tupperware was taken out. Once he lifted the lid, he saw her ear twitch.

"…What's that?" she asked cautiously.

"Maple-roasted carrots."

She turned over just enough to glare at him.

"That's not exactly the sort of thing that you're supposed to be eating in your room, ya know."

Instead of responding to her claim verbally, he took out a collapsible wooden bed tray and set it up on top of her.

"…Holy shit. I'm resting, not a bedridden old hag. You know that, right?"

He smiled and slapped the container down on the tray along with a fork.

"You're free to tell me how great it is."

She propped herself up.

"Tch. Fine."

Rumi leaned forward, allowing the blanket covering her to fall in the process. As she grabbed the utensil, she completely missed how Shirou averted his gaze.

She took a bite.

"…You're pumping up the calories for no good reason when you do stuff like this, ya know. If I ate your food every day I'd get fat."

"Good thing you don't eat my food every day, then," he teased.

Hah? The way he said that pissed her off somehow.

"Anyway, uh…" he trailed off, still refusing to look at her. Shirou tapped his chest.

Hm?

Rumi looked down and remembered that she was wearing a loose tank top. With no bra.

Ah.

She pretended that nothing happened and ignored Shirou's reaction to her current state of dress.

"Thanks, I guess. For the food."

If she wasn't going to do anything about it, then he could only smile and brush it off.

"Right. I'll stop by some other time, then."

It wasn't until he reached the door that her grey matter hooked onto what he said.

"Hold your horses! I'm outta here tomorrow! Don't come back because I won't be here– hey! Are you listening?"

The door closed behind him. She threw a pillow at it.

X

The sun was already setting by the time he left. The cool breeze under dimming daylight went a long way in helping him to get his thoughts back in order.

On his walk back to where he had parked his car, Shirou couldn't help but think back to the events that led to him panicking and practically running away from the house.

It was… strange to him. He'd never acted that way around Rumi before.

They were close, and he could honestly say that, no matter how much he tended to keep to himself, Rumi was probably the person that he felt the most comfortable around. Since before their final year of high school together, he knew that he could be open with her because she'd be open with him whether he liked it or not.

And he was open with her. They shared countless memories together to the point that they'd become keystones of each other's lives, and extended work-related absences did little to diminish that fact.

So why…

His phone rang.

He was quick to fish it out of his pocket and check the caller ID. He frowned and pressed the device to his ear.

"Arthur?"

"Shirou. Do you have a moment?"

The man sounded serious.

"Of course. Is something the matter?"

Shirou pinched the cellphone between his cheek and shoulder as he fiddled with the handle of his car door.

"Your sports festival is right around the corner, so I've been keeping an ear out for anything –or anyone– trying to sneak around while the public's attention is diverted. I didn't exactly find what I was looking for, but I did find something that I think you'd like to hear."

At this point, the blonde had his full attention. He sat in his car, hands on the wheel as he waited to see where this conversation was going.

"Have you ever heard of someone called the Hero Killer?"