Chapter 46 - Sword of the Mountain
Yoroi-Musha was a patient man.
Ever since the U.A. Sports Festival, he had kept silent and laid a path. Where others would rush in haphazardly– a blind fit to reach first, he sat on the fence until the time was right. Mount Lady had stonewalled his attempts earlier– no doubt due to her role as the young man's guardian–but now that she was preoccupied with her duties, it allowed him his rightful due.
He smiled under his mane of a beard.
Emiya Shirou was a talent he had rarely seen… no, he doubted he had seen such talent since he first took up the sword. His former master and peers would admit that the young man had the potential to surpass them all combined, Yoroi-Musha included.
And it was being squandered.
This training camp, while a mask to bait out the League of Villains, was his opportunity to rectify past mistakes.
He turned his back to watch the rest of the students driving their Quirks up a wall under the watchful eyes of their instructors. The students were indeed educated as they should be… but were still too green for his tastes. Thankfully, the two students under his eye were both prime talents, albeit one more than the other.
Yoroi-Musha had elected to move somewhere a bit quieter so as not to be distracted by the howling nonsense behind him.
"I've heard enough from your homeroom teacher," Yoroi-Musha started. "You two are familiar enough with each other to spar daily, correct?"
The two of them nodded.
"Then proceed. I will watch for now to find your flaws," he said. "Then we continue."
"Um," the girl, Yaoyorozu, raised her hand. "Are we not supposed to train our Quirks?"
"Oh you will," he said. "However, I must gauge your proficiency. Now."
There was little time to waste.
"Looks like we can't argue," the prized child simply nodded as two wooden swords manifested in his hands. Good. "I won't hold back, Yaoyorozu."
"... If it will help us," the girl muttered before a bo staff extended from her elbow. "Whenever you're ready."
A single moment passed.
Then they collided.
It was a dance that Yoroi-Musha could easily tell that they'd practiced for days on end. A savage yet elegant bout that the withered hero could see held a few punches. A good few of the girl's strikes were designed to cripple her opponent for capture. Despite being haphazardly made mere moments ago, that bo staff was sturdy enough to handle her foe's strikes.
But that was all she could handle.
Her opponent was simply leagues above and they all knew it.
Like fluid water, her staff was redirected. Like a raging fire, the swords were relentless. Like fluttering winds, he danced between each strike. Like stalwart earth, he remained unflinching. Like an unreadable void, his gaze gave nothing to his opponent. He manifested every virtue a swordsman could ask for.
However, Yoroi-Musha was not blind to his failings either.
That style… was that suicidal style borne from the failings of that woman– Mount Lady, or was it something else?
There were openings that anyone with combat training or instincts would see in an instant. Any combatant worth their salt would've taken advantage of such balefully open wounds with gusto… However, that was where Yoroi-Musha found himself befuddled.
The girl struck like a viper, piercing straight for the opening, but a wooden sword had already been there, lying in wait, before battering it aside and creating a gap for the young man to capitalize on.
It was bait.
One that Yoroi-Musha would've undoubtedly found himself caught by had he chosen to spar with the child himself. No, those openings would always bait stronger and more battle-wisened opponents. He surmised that it must've been a style meant to combat stronger foes– those with greater technique and power.
It was a style born to combat those that were his better.
It was magnificent… but simultaneously, the style required intimate knowledge of one's opponents. A single misstep was fatal.
How long has that child been using such a style?
A long time, Yoroi-Musha assumed. The hero had been there in the morning when the child was practicing forms on his lonesome. Without an opponent, the true essence of his style eluded him, but now that it was plain as day…
Yoroi-Musha grumbled.
… He found himself in a predicament. Should he allow such a style to progress, or does he squash it under his heel to protect the sanctity of his student's life? There were merits to both sides of the argument.
"Stop," he said. The two stopped on a dime. "I've seen enough. While there is much that can still be learned… we do not have the time for all of it."
A fact that he lamented.
"If you continue these spars, there is little doubt in my mind that you will find yourselves stronger than you were today," he said. "However, I must know. Why are you not using your Quirks?"
They shared a look.
"... I apologize," the girl bowed her head. "I was so used to sparring with Emiya without using my Quirk that it became a habit."
"No, I'm also to blame," the boy admitted. "I've been… a little distracted lately."
"It is fine," Yoroi-Musha said with his eyes slowly closing. "... Now, we will proceed with strengthening your Quirks. That teacher of yours said it best. Quirks are like muscles. The more you use it, the more it will grow. We will enact that here."
"So you want us to create things?" Emiya Shirou raised a brow.
"Until you are exhausted," the professional hero confirmed but opened one eye while rubbing his beard. "... Although, you bring a point. It does sound a bit too archaic. Good initiative."
"... That wasn't what I meant–"
"–let us combine it with what you've done previously," Yoroi-Musha smiled beneath his beard. "Spar again. However, this time, after each strike with your weapons, create a different weapon."
"Pardon?" The girl, Yaoyorozu, balked. "But… I am only proficient in stave-wielding–"
"Then we will be improving on it today," he said. "You two are special, in that you can create whatever weapons you desire– in that your hands will never be empty. However, that is meaningless without the skill to use such weapons. This exercise will also serve to increase the rate at which you use your respective Quirks… Though, I do understand that Emiya does not need to do so. If his performance in the Sports Festival was any indication, he merely needs to haphazardly shoot his swords…"
He once again rubbed his beard.
"I shall correct myself. Yaorozu, you will spar with me. Emiya, until our spar is finished, you will continually shoot your swords into the nearby mountain. Do not stop until we are finished."
This time, he saw the young lad balk as well.
"I… Yes sir."
He smirked under his beard.
Yoroi-Musha still didn't know whether it was smart to let that suicidal swordsmanship blossom… but his old soul was tempted. That style had more tricks up its sleeve. He decided to put his curiosity before responsibility.
Even if it was foolhardy, he wanted to see it– that sword style.
He wondered if there was a point to this exercise.
Shirou knew, intellectually, that this exercise was done under the assumption that his quirk was able to grow if he continually used it… However, therein lies the problem. His quirk was not a muscle he could train. It was his magecraft that did the heavy lifting.
If Shirou wanted to train his magecraft, then he'd have to either figure out a way to expand his reserves or streamline the Tracing process significantly. He doubted that either option was possible, especially considering that Archer had done all the legwork for him in that regard… but the idea of switching weapons mid-combat was one Shirou dabbled in.
A sword shot past him and stabbed into the rocky outcrop before it disappeared. There were dozens of similar holes that fractured the mountainside. He wagered that it would eventually collapse… he'd have to tell someone about it.
He sighed.
"Bored already, Emiya-bozu?"
Bozu?
"I'd appreciate not being called a little kid… but no, I'm not bored," Shirou answered as he turned to look behind him. "More importantly, I thought an instructor would be busier instructing her students, Miss Burnin."
The sidekick of Endeavor leaned against a tree.
"Well, the Class-B students looked forward to my help, but your classmates ignored me," the woman shrugged. Shirou couldn't berate her, as he knew who she had been assigned. "On the bright side, your classmates already know how to improve their Quirks. I only had to watch the other class for a few minutes before they figured things out."
"Sounds rough."
Her brow rose at his slightly dismissive tone.
"What? Not going to ask why I'm here?"
"Endeavor probably told you to check up on me or something," Shirou muttered. "That, or he wanted you to coordinate with me so we don't get in each other's way."
Burnin blinked.
"Well, you got me there!" She cackled lightly before shrugging. "I snuck away, but I probably got a minute or two tops. I won't get into details, but pretty much everyone thinks that it's going down in a day or two."
Shirou's eyes furrowed.
"... That soon?"
"Pretty much," she whispered. The usual smile had long faded. "Look, Endeavor pretty much said that you'd be fine by yourself… but it doesn't sit right with me. You catch my drift?"
He expected as much.
"Do you want a demonstration too?"
"Just reassurance that you really can handle yourself," her eyes narrowed. "Endeavor said that you can bring any legendary weapon you think of to life. You don't have to make anything eye-catching."
Shirou paused.
"... Alright then," Shirou peered into his Reality Marble for a split second before expending more magical energy than usual. His hand flexed before a familiar blade drank the sunlight.
In an instant, Shirou noticed Burnin's guard rise… alongside the temperature. The sun's heat might've already passed, but the sword in Shirou's hand seemed to waft with barely restrained heat. Burnin was a Hero very familiar with fire… However, all sense of self-preservation let her know that the sword in Shirou's hands was beyond what she could achieve.
"... Neat toy, Emiya-bozu," she looked up and down. Her hair flickered, betraying her surprise. "So, what's its name?"
"... This is Galatine."
"Vaguely familiar," she scratched her head. "Then again, I didn't pay attention in history class. What's the inspiration?"
Oh, right. Shirou had gone with the explanation of his Quirk's weapons being inspired by myth and legends. He nearly forgot.
"Galatine was the sword of Sir Gawain of Arthurian Legend. It is better considered a sister sword to the more famous swords of the mythos, such as Arondight and Excalibur. This blade contains an artificial sun on its hilt– or so the stories go."
"Did I miss that part in history class?" Burnin muttered with a skeptical look. "The sun eh? That explains the heat. What does it do?"
"A couple of things, but all of them usually relate to fire. If I don't want anything too much out of it, then it can just coat itself in fire. However, if I fully maximize the artificial sun's power, it should be able to unleash either a wave or beam of fire with a single swing. It can also focus that energy as a blade of fire," he said before it faded away. He wasn't willing to leave it around for long. "Whichever option I choose, it should be able to burn this entire forest at the very least."
She blinked.
"... Alright, how many swings for that to happen?"
"You assume that I'd need to swing it at all."
The moment that Shirou invoked its name, it could scorch the forest til naught but ashes remain. As such, it wasn't something he could easily control. There was just too much risk of collateral damage, both living and not.
"... Is it alright if I ask you to not use it? Just imagining the paperwork for collateral damage makes my skin crawl," Her hair flickered. "Sheesh, Endeavor wasn't kidding… that's one hell of a Quirk you got there kid. Speaking of… Excalibur's Shadow? Now, I didn't hear anything about Galatine, but Excalibur? That I sure as hell have heard. Can you make it too?"
"No."
Burnin blinked.
"... A little quick on the draw with that answer, kiddo."
"There are limits to my quirk, even if it doesn't seem like it," Shirou paused to string together an explanation. "Excalibur… the problem with that sword is that it is toofamous. The more famous the weapon, the harder it is for me to create. Excalibur is not just any weapon."
"Huh? Why not? What do everyone else's thoughts have to do with how your Quirk functions?"
Shirou flinched for a brief moment.
"It's how my Quirk judges the weapon's… let's call it conceptual weight. The higher the conceptual weight, the more difficult it is for me to recreate. It's King Arthur's sword— a mythological king known by practically everyone in the world. The weight of it is astronomical."
"Okay, I see your issue now. So your body just can't handle making it?" She raised a brow. "What's the worst-case scenario if you fail?"
"The outcome's the same whether I fail or not– I die."
She grimaced.
"... Looks like you'll have to put in extra work to strengthen that Quirk of yours. Who knows? You called it a weight, so you'll just have to train to carry it without croaking."
A wry smile worked its way onto his face.
There was… a very small chance of that happening. He knew that Archer tried such things throughout his life as a Counter Guardian, mostly gleaned from a few snippets of his memories. Archer never usually survived for more than a single swing, and if he did, he was so depleted of magical energy that even sustaining himself became a struggle.
Excalibur was out of the question.
"... Yeah," he muttered. "Look, I appreciate that you're trying to look out for me, but when the time comes, I'm prepared."
Her eyes narrowed.
"... Prepared?" she said. "Even for…?"
His eyes closed.
"If it comes to it."
… but even if it was out of the question, he knew that he shouldn't outright dismiss it. Shirou knew that deep down if such a time came that he'd need to use it, he would.
A pause followed his declaration.
Burnin sighed and ruffled her hair.
"The world's gone mad if kids like you are mentally preparing yourselves for that," she huffed as she started to walk away. "Then again, those classmates of yours aren't too far behind in that department."
When she was gone, Shirou simply returned to what he was doing.
Waiting.
With a swing from above, steel sang as it sliced the air.
A stave jutted out to intercept it, but she hastily dropped it as a spear shot out from her chest. Her opponent wisely took a step back, but she grabbed the spear before it could fall to the floor and thrust forth. She winced as it was nearly knocked out of her grasp, but she tried to slam the butt of the spear on her opponent.
She misjudged the distance, the strike whiffed by a few inches, and her foe's sword swung upward to catch her unaware. Seeing no other option, she let go of her spear and retreated.
"Good," Yoroi-Musha said. "We shall end it here. You've improved since the Sports Festival."
"I have?" She blinked. "I had thought…"
"Were you comparing yourself to Emiya Shirou?" He asked. Once he got a nod out of her, he snorted. "Your start lines are too different to even consider such… you must retain realistic expectations. That child is a prodigy– a genius at swordplay."
She had been called that, once upon a time. Yaoyorozu's mouth thinned before she nodded.
"Do not look so dour," he said. She winced. Was she that obvious? "You are, without a doubt, someone capable of reaching the upper echelons of the hero boards. However, you will need to continue laying the foundations. Even while you are resting, continue using your Quirk. It is nothing to scoff at. There will be a time when your Quirk may very well be more useful than Emiya's, even if it may not seem like it now. There are a great many benefits to creating more esoteric items such as smoke grenades… or medicinal drugs."
She had considered that. Or rather, her parents had. The ability to create anything with mere lipids… Yaoyorozu admitted that there were business partners in her father's board that would've much preferred if she pursued a life of medicine or research.
However, like her peers, the path of heroism was what her heart truly wished for.
"Thank you for the compliments…" but she paused. "Wait, I am to continue working on my Quirk throughout the rest period? I thought rest was important?"
"It is, but what I suggest is nothing strenuous. Simply making pebbles from your heels is enough."
"What about matryoshka dolls?"
"... A matry-what now?" He peered down at her. Yaoyorozu took that as a sign and created a small matryoshka doll, with at least five others inside of it. "... I suppose that will be fine. But pace yourself. A warrior must know their limits."
"Yes sir," Yaoyorozu found herself instinctively bowing before looking up at the setting sun, dying the forest in a copper hue. "... Should I go and get Shirou?"
"No, you go on ahead," Yoroi-Musha slowly walked deeper into the forest. "I shall bring him there myself, as is my responsibility as his instructor."
"Yes sir…?" Yaoyorozu watched in slight confusion at his fading silhouette. "... That was strange."
Were all heroes from his generation so… strange?
"I suppose I will help with dinner," she muttered before walking off.
She'd have to deny any requests to make salt and pepper though. She could never get the ratios right.
Shirou sighed as he stopped firing the hundredth blade at the rocky outcrop. Out of boredom, he had kept counting… but he was pretty sure he hadn't even gone under half of his current magical energy. He felt his body heat up from the continuous output, but it was nothing a cold shower wouldn't fix.
"Not even a sweat," a scoff came from behind him. "Have you been slacking off while I was busy with your classmate?"
"No sir," Shirou frowned. "I haven't hit my limit yet."
Or rather, he didn't want to completely exert himself yet.
"Then you should have increased the rate at which you fired," Yoroi-Musha studied his handiwork. Namely, at the utterly butchered outcrop. "Though I grant you this, the common villain will not be able to equal you."
Shirou returned with a polite nod. "Are we finished for today?"
"Yes… but there is a matter that I wish to discuss with you," the magus raised a brow, which the hero took as a sign to continue. "Your skill with the blade is praiseworthy. However, there is still room for improvement. As such, I am willing to extend an offer to you. I am looking for an apprentice and I believe that your talent with the blade can be… expanded upon."
… Was this why he separated them– so that he could get the opportunity to speak with Shirou alone and pitch his offer?
Shirou replied.
"I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline."
The elder paused.
"... May I ask for your reason?"
"If I accept being your apprentice, then that means that I have to follow you around once I graduate," Shirou explained. "I planned to follow my homeroom teacher's footsteps and be an underground hero–"
"An underground hero!?" He looked aghast. "Child, you are a genius with the blade. The average citizen has not seen swordplay at your level– not since Quirks took over all facets of modern media."
Seeing nothing change in Shirou's expression, he pushed on.
"That alone can net you sponsorship deals, and invigorate your career to the point that you can eventually attain a comfortable retirement plan– you could even open up training agencies and ignite a martial arts renaissance! You could live a comfortable life. To be an underground hero… it's akin to throwing away that future! You won't get media coverage, your ranking will never rise, and you'll end up working til the day you die!"
Shirou raised a brow.
"You seem… passionate about this."
Yoroi-Musha paused before scoffing.
"Passionate? Is that what you call being intelligent about your career choices?" He continued. "To throw that away… it's like choosing to open a small local clinic when you easily have the skills to be a brain surgeon in the best hospital in the country. It's unheard of– no, it is downright self-sabotage."
"When you put it like that, I suppose so," Shirou sighed. "I get it but none of that interests me. I know what I want in my life. Ranking high, being well-known, and all that other stuff… it gets in the way."
"Then why did you even choose this profession?"
Why did he choose to become a hero? Was that the question he was asking? Shirou sent him an incredulous look but paused as he studied Yoroi-Musha's face.
Genuine confusion.
… Were their thinking just that different from each other?
"... I suppose it's just a difference in values," Shirou decided. "I won't fault anyone for focusing on their career and future, but I chose to become a professional hero to save lives. Being a professional hero will just let me act more freely than other professions."
… Though, he supposed his route had been quite strange. He wasn't even aware that hero schools existed when he chose to save Uwabami that night. He just wanted to save a life he knew he could save. It was that simple.
"... Unrelenting altruism, is it? Just like that man," he made a complicated expression before he turned away. "Fine. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Such a mindset would be good for public perception… But an underground hero? What a waste."
With such a remark, Yoroi-Musha returned to the rest of the camp, leaving Shirou to meditate on his lonesome.
A difference in mindset indeed. The way Yoroi-Musha talked about being a hero… it felt a lot more commercialized and sanitized than the hero of justice that Shirou sought to emulate and become– one almost void of altruism for their fellow man. The sentiment and inherent purpose of heroism lay waste and forgotten in the new age of man.
That was probably the norm in this world. Though there were exceptions. The most notable one standing at the top of the hero rankings without question. Perhaps Stain existed because of people like Yoroi-Musha?
Regardless of the reasoning, it still wasn't enough to justify that madman's sickening need to purge and cull those who weren't worthy to be called heroes. There were probably an innumerable number of Heroic Spirits that he'd find unworthy too.
The ends don't justify the means. People could think otherwise, but for Emiya Shirou, there was nothing else to consider.
She sighed.
"Yes… thank you."
A groan of frustration soon followed.
"Tough call?"
"Yes, Ryuko, it was a tough call," Sosaki Shino muttered, but she was more popularly known as Mandalay. The two of them were currently sitting in their private breakroom atop a couch that they bought. It was on sale. The students had finished their training for the day. Thankfully.
Using her Quirk for twelve consecutive hours was tiring.
"Fortunately, Principal Nezu has arranged for a pickup for Kouta. He'll be in their dorms by tomorrow, but they didn't mention whether it'd be during the day or not."
"That's great!" Pixiebob smiled. "So, why the reaction?"
"... Kouta."
"Ah," her friend slumped onto the couch. "... He's still against the idea?"
"If we want him to go, then you'll just have to be honest with him," Ragdoll advised from her desk. She was filling in some minor paperwork… which she should've done weeks ago, but Mandalay was too tired to split hairs. However, her friend's eyes were slightly unfocused, likely because she was still monitoring the students. "I doubt he'd argue much if he knew how dangerous staying would be."
"... I'd rather not," Mandalay admitted. "If I do, I'd need to tell him why we're evacuating just him and not everyone else too. Kouta has little faith in the system as it is. If he learned what Principal Nezu had planned for this camp…"
"Understandable," Tiger gently dropped a dumbbell he was lifting. In his own words, if he wasn't putting in the work while the students were going past their limits, then he'd be a hypocrite. "... In any case, it will be difficult to convince him."
That was an understatement.
If Mandalay tricked him into staying at the dorms, even if only for a week or so, it'd still be a massive betrayal. She doubted that Kouta would ever trust them again… Mandalay sighed. She'd have to promise to buy him the newest gaming console or something. That was what kids liked nowadays, right?
Then again, she hadn't ever seen Kouta play games, even from the handheld consoles that he already owned… Argh! Why were kids so confusing!?
"Hello!" Mandalay looked to the entrance to their waiting room and found someone she didn't expect to be walking in. "I just wanted to say hi. I figured everyone would be too tired yesterday, so here I am."
… Where did Mandalay recognize her from again…?
"Mount Lady, was it?" Tiger grumbled but raised a brow. "You're with the emergency response team. If you were looking for your breakroom, there should've been one further up the mountain."
"And my greetings were ignored," Mount Lady laughed weakly. "Alright, I guess I'll just be going–"
Wait, that's it!
Mandalay jumped to her feet and clasped her hands around Mount Lady's.
"The Single Mother's Association!"
"Geh!" Mount Lady winced. "... I mean— I attended an event or two of theirs before. I didn't think that I'd get recognized for it."
"Please! I need help convincing a kid about doing something he doesn't want to do," Mandalay hastily explained. "How do I go about doing this? You certainly know, right? I heard that you had a kid."
Mandalay never did. She didn't want to sound mean, but Kouta had been thrust upon her the moment his parents died. She didn't turn him away–she loved her sister too much to do that–but Mandalay wasn't exactly experiencedin raising kids.
As such, she often took to the internet in search of guides, or to messageboards that were frequented by others in similar situations. The most prominent one was the SMA, the Single Mother's Association, which was based in Musutafu. While she hadn't been able to attend one of their gatherings personally–she was too busy with rescue work to do that–Mandalay still kept up with the messageboards.
Mount Lady's name often came up.
"If you have anything that can help–"
"Wait, timeout," Mount Lady gently removed Mandalay's grasp. "I understand that it's difficult, but I'll be frank. You've already seen Shirou. He's extremely well behaved and he's been that way ever since I first met him. The only time I had to convince him to do something he didn't want to do–"
Mandalay paused as she saw Mount Lady's face fall.
"... Look, it's not that simple," she continued. "The best I can offer is to take it one step at a time. Sorry."
A short second later Mount Lady left their breakroom.
"... So," Pixiebob muttered. "That happened. Do you think you came on too strong?"
"I hope not," Mandalay muttered. She was still nowhere close enough to figuring out a solution. However… that reaction from Mount Lady– Mandalay felt regret coming from her—a deep level of it.
"It is best not to gossip nor pry," Tiger advised before returning to his workout. "It is not our place."
"Yeah," Mandalay muttered with a sigh. "... One step at a time, huh?"
… She supposed that the first step would be to sit down and talk it through with Kouta. Speaking of, she had lost sight of him when she was busy coordinating the camp…
Where had he gone?
After his encounter with Yoroi-Musha, Shirou found himself helping around in the impromptu outdoor kitchen. The teachers had prepared small stations next to each other where they could burn wood for a fire, which they could then heat individual camping lunch boxes to cook with– not the plastic commercial variant, but metal ones.
It was… smaller than he was used to. Then again, he had a wonderful kitchen back at the UA dorms. Perhaps he was just feeling spoiled. Cooking was something he greatly enjoyed. The lack of equipment wouldn't deter him from that joy… especially since he could just Project what he needed.
More importantly, his classmates. While most of them could cook without issue, it was the latter half that was struggling. Was this their first time cooking? He thought that home economics would've taught them more.
Seriously, how hard was it to cut a carrot into even chunks? He had to stop Jiro from adding sugar to the curry broth, which she thought was salt.
The fact that cooking seemed to come easy to him… well, it sparked a little envy from his classmates. They didn't mind once he tried offering to cook for everyone else.
Unfortunately, the other heroes interrupted to force his classmates to at least cook for themselves.
"Ah! I burnt it…"
The stench of burnt curry irritated him. His own was pristine and, dare he say it, far more appetizing than what his peers had concocted, save for a few exceptions.
It would seem that Bakugo of all people was extremely proficient in the culinary arts. However, the fact that Shirou complimented him on it only seemed to spur his competitive spirit. In the end, the two of them ended up having to coach the other students.
"Keep your fingers curled so you don't accidentally cut them off," Shirou reminded as he stood behind Kaminari. The boy seemed to struggle at first, being unused to holding a knife, but he was getting into the rhythm of it.
"Oh…! I get it. This is kinda fun."
"The fact that you find cutting things up fun tells me more about you than I think I should know," Jiro rolled her eyes before looking over her batch of curry. "... Hm, Shit. This might be a bit too watery."
"Don't throw it away," Shirou walked up to the bundle of ingredients that the heroes had prepared for them and smiled at their foresight as he fished out a box. "Add a few tablespoons of corn flour. This should fix the issue."
"Thanks, Emiya!"
Just as Shirou was smiling at his help, he heard Bakugo screaming from behind him.
"Cat paws! I told you to keep them curled up!"
"Sorry, Baku-bro. But on the bright side, my hardening stopped me from losing a finger!"
"I don't give a shit about your finger! You broke the knife, dumbass!"
Shirou sighed.
"Do you want me to make you another one?" Shirou offered. "It's no sweat off my back."
"Oh. Thanks dude!"
Bakugo scoffed before his eyes snapped to his right.
"... Half-and-half… the fuck are you doing?"
"Cooking. Why?"
"Where the hell did you get the soba from?" He squinted as if in disbelief. "... And why is it in your curry?"
"I brought some along with me," Todoroki opened a bag to reveal a few unopened packets of soba. "I haven't had curry-flavored soba before."
Bakugo blinked one last time before turning away. He decided that some things were too strange to snap at.
"Is that chilled soba?" Shirou muttered as he looked over. "... I think it can work, but maybe some experimentation is needed."
"I can give you a packet if you want."
"Maybe tomorrow."
After all, he had already cooked dinner… but that didn't stop him from theory-crafting for a little bit. Maybe he could make watery curry sauce on purpose and use it as make-shift dipping sauce? It'd be better if he was allowed to marinate some greens beforehand…
Maybe the teachers would let him do that? It was worth asking…
… and speaking of teachers.
"I'll be back," Shirou bid them farewell for now. "Just need to use the comfort room."
His classmates were too focused on cooking, but a few waved at him. Bakugo, surprisingly, was far more skilled than the others at cooking– Shirou being an exception… as well as Sato. That made sense, given that the burly teen often helped his parents with their bakery.
With nothing to stop him, Shirou left them behind. His nose twitched. A subtle turn of the head let him catch a glimpse of someone leaning on a tree with a coy smile.
"Yo, Shirou."
"Yo, Yu," Shirou smiled. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Neither did I. What? Did you want to explore the forest? Not much around here but trees," Yu's smile followed soon after. "What about dinner? Did you finish eating yet?"
"Not yet. I was honestly trying to find Aizawa."
She raised a brow.
"... Back here?"
"Honestly speaking, he's turned out to have been watching me from afar for a while now. I thought it was him again," he paused. "That, or Yoroi-Musha… or Burnin."
"... You've been up to some shenanigans while we were separated, haven't you?" Yu sighed before shaking her head. "Nevermind. I thought you finished eating, but since you haven't, meet me later on the roof of the building."
He raised a brow.
"Is it important?"
"For me, yeah. Not for everyone else though," she admitted. "Enjoy your dinner! I'll bring some snacks later."
Shirou simply snorted.
"Fine."
He was admittedly curious as to what she wanted to say.
When the call for curfew came, Shirou asked Aizawa for permission to meet with his guardian. He told the teacher that they had made plans to meet earlier and, to his surprise, Aizawa let him. Shirou considered the lenience odd… but he supposed that Aizawa thought that it couldn't hurt, especially considering their current situation.
"Yo!"
Yu was there, sitting atop a stray rock, as she remained in her hero outfit. To her side was a cup of coffee, with its lid off so that it could cool. The smell of it was strong. As promised, a few snacks surrounded it– a couple of All-Might branded biscuits and a few bags of chips. Shirou had eaten earlier, but he knew his classmates would be thankful if he brought them along for them.
"Yo," Shirou returned her smile with his own as he went to stand beside her. He momentarily relented as his guardian grabbed him into a chokehold to mess up his hair. He had gotten used to Taiga's similar antics, so he took it in stride. "So? What exactly did you want to talk about?"
Expecting a response, Shirou waited. However, as the seconds flew by, he only raised a brow.
"It's… a bit hard to put to words," Yu's face was mixed as she let go of him. "I sort of hoped that we'd start with small talk about what kind of snacks you'd want and all that…"
She then muttered something about the online articles being unhelpful here. Even more incomprehensible things from his adoptive parent.
"Well, might as well cut straight to the point," Shirou decided to cross his legs and join Yu on the rock. "Whatever it is, I won't judge… Unless you joined some kind of cult. Then we'll need to have words."
Somewhere in Archer's memories, there was a disdain for cults. Shirou didn't share the same distaste as he did, but for some reason, it grew the more he thought about it. Weird.
"Shirou, I'm not dumb," Yu shuffled the snacks to the side as he did so. "My mother nearly ended up joining one. She had groceries to do and the parasites waltzed up to her. Luckily, I was there."
"Because you were skipping classes."
"Yeah, because I was–" she paused before going red. "... Look, that was in middle school! I managed to get into U.A. didn't I?"
"So you say," Shirou kept a small smirk. "But sometimes I wonder."
"Wonder what?" Her own eyes narrowed. "You've gotten sassier lately. I bet it's those Shields."
"Suddenly it's about my dorm mates," Shirou muttered. "What? Do you have something against them too?"
"I'm against the fact that you're there at all, even if I know it was probably our best option," Yu pointed out. "I just wish Nezu didn't put more people there with you. You were enough of a target as it is, but putting one of the world's premiere researchers and his daughter there is just asking for trouble."
"That's why the security is as intense as it is," Shirou reminded. "Even then, you know I can take care of myself."
Their recent fight against Stain wasn't as fresh in their minds, but it still left its mark. Shirou even told Yu of his trump card should he need it. He would be fine.
"... Yeah, I know," Yu trailed off. "But that doesn't mean I don't get worried now and then."
Sensing a switch in mood, Shirou settled as Yu continued.
"God, now I sound like my mother," she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "... I guess that's probably why I wanted to bring this up before anything happens."
Shirou simply nodded.
"I'm always ready to listen."
"And I'm always the one that feels like talking," Yu gave a small smirk. It only lasted a second. "Shirou. Am I a good mother?"
He paused.
"... I have no reason to say you aren't. In my experience, you've been good to me. Why?"
Where was she going with this?
"Sometimes it feels like I haven't been," Yu muttered. "Every book I've read about this stuff says that it takes time– and that I need to wait for my kid to open up about their problems. Patience should be the key to trust. Sounds obvious in hindsight, right? I'd like to think I've been doing my best."
"You have," Shirou didn't like the direction they were going. "Yu, are you feeling self-conscious about this stuff again? I get that it's been a troubling few weeks, but that shouldn't change anything between us. I still trust you–"
"Do you? Or was it something I pried out of you?"
Yu stopped him with a single hand. Her eyes were determined and even somewhat pleading. With little protest, Shirou let her continue.
"Shirou. Throughout the months that I've been your adopted guardian, you were nothing but respectful. You were truthful with me, kept an eye out whenever I screwed up, and even helped me better myself. The longer I've been taking care of you, the more I've realized that my mother was probably in the same situation– fumbling around in the dark and hoping that she was doing something right with me," Yu looked away once she confirmed Shirou wasn't going to interrupt her. "No matter the hardship, my mother was always there for me, even when good ol' pops kicked the bucket. I wasn't the best. I made problems. I made her angry. I frustrated her to no end… but here I am, the best version of myself I could want to be."
Her brow furrowed as her eyes dropped.
"... You can say that, out of anyone else in this world, it's my mother I trust the most. It's the type of trust that I couldn't ever give anyone but her. I wanted to have that same sort of trust with you."
Her fist clenched.
"But when I think back… I can't see it."
"Yu," Shirou's own eyes narrowed. "I do trust you. We've lived under the same roof for almost half a year, but it felt like years. That might not sound like much to you, but the trust I have in you is as much as those I fought tooth and nail to protect."
"Back in Fuyuki?"
"Yeah. Speaking of, I even trusted you enough to know I came from a different world! There's not much out there that can top that."
The present Yu, who was his guardian, knew far too much. That was something that Rin would've scolded him about, but Shirou's intuition about people wasn't usually wrong. Even when he had befriended Shinji, it was mostly because he was Sakura's brother. He had always felt something was off with him.
This was not something he felt with Yu.
"Yeah… I guess you do," her tone didn't change. "But that wasn't given out freely."
"It was my choice to let you know everything about me and Avenger–"
"Under duress. You can't even accept confessions under duress, but I made you tell it all to me."
"This isn't a police interrogation. I told you willingly."
"Because I wanted to know! You were supposed to open up naturally but I practically forced that information out of you! I took the trust you had in me and greedily wanted more!" Yu turned to him a little angrily. "Tell me– and don't think of lying. You can't lie to save a life. If I hadn't cornered you back then, would you have ever told me?"
I would have.
The words died before they could leave him. Shirou knew just what type of person he was. He felt that information was delicate and capable of endangering her. That was arrogance. He realized that now… but would he have come to that realization soon enough?
"Figures," Yu gave a self-deprecating sigh. "I… It might not have seemed like a big deal to us then, but I always thought back to it– have second thoughts. You weren't ready to tell me, but I forced it out of you. I talked about how I loved my mother and wouldn't give anyone else but her my complete trust, but when I think about you–about putting myself in your place and having my mother tell me something similar… It's a fucked up feeling."
Shirou saw her close her eyes.
"... What makes it worse is that you don't even know that it's wrong because you never had proper parents. You don't even know that I abused your trust at all– No. You probably just don't care that I did. You'd let people walk all over you before ever thinking that you weren't the one at fault."
She sighed.
Shirou turned away to ponder a little.
… Yu was correct about that. There was a reason he was called the Homurahara Brownie. He let people walk all over him. He'd take over cleaning duties–sometimes for other classes–and wouldn't see anything wrong with it. It often made Fuji-nee scold both him and those he was helping by doing so.
He often thought of that as an over-exaggeration.
… Had Fuji-nee been trying to protect him back then?
"I'm guessing this ate you up inside?"
"Ever since we beat Stain," she admitted. "I kept it to myself, but I always wanted to apologize for that. The fact you ended up in U.A.'s dorms made it impossible to bring up. It's not exactly a conversation to have on the phone either."
"... That's why you visited before," Shirou muttered. "... But with the Shield family around…"
"It made it harder to bring up… and those two–" Yu's eyes softened. " … They're good people. David Shield… Do you see the way his daughter looks at him? She practically trusts him more than I trust my mother. He's probably a way better parent than I am…"
"Enough," Shirou decisively interjected. "You have a right to feel this way. It's normal to feel lacking at times, but don't demean yourself like that."
Her brow rose in question.
"Yu. I never had a mother– not one I could remember. The only parental figure in my life was Kiritsugu, but he wasn't the type to take care of a dumb kid like me– and I mean he couldn't even cook. He burned a burger trying to reheat it. As far as I'm concerned, you've done better than he had," Shirou kept going. "Fuji-nee was someone who took care of me throughout my childhood, but she's more of an elder sister to me. You… You've done a lot. You gave me a place to stay in this world and taught me many things."
"... I have?"
"What, did you forget?" Shirou kept some mirth in that. "A hero doesn't fight alone, remember?"
Even the lone ones. They weren't fighting for themselves but for the people behind them. Those were what kept them going– what kept them fighting the good fight. Archer wasn't taught that. Even on his deathbed, he had been alone with only his ideals to prop him up.
Shirou… Shirou didn't have to fight alone anymore. That was what Yu taught him.
"Yeah, but that's… something anyone could've told you."
"But it came from you. That's what matters," Shirou shared a look. "Yu. I don't think you abused my trust– even if you wholeheartedly believe that. I could've walked away, but I didn't. Let's leave it at that."
Yu looked like she wanted to argue, but kept quiet with a single sigh.
"... Mom made this look easy."
"Didn't you say that you made it hard for her?"
"My point exactly," she scoffed. "Ah… I feel like nothing's changed yet a weight's been lifted. I felt like that was the most important thing in the world, but in the end, I made a fuss over nothing. Good job, Yu."
"It wasn't nothing," Shirou amended. "It mattered to you."
"What? Playing at being a therapist now?" Yu frowned. "I'll have you know that's supposed to be my job. Kinda. Parents are therapists, right?"
"You're the one with a parent," he shrugged. "I never told Kiritsugu anything like that, but maybe you're right."
"Damn. Guess we'll never know," Yu snorted before she continued. "... I'm sorry about saying that Kiritsugu wasn't a proper parent, by the way. That wasn't cool."
"It didn't bother me. He tried, and I love him for it, but you weren't wrong. Kiritsugu might've been my adoptive parent, but he wasn't good at it."
Again, burnt hamburgers. The less said about the kitchen, the better.
"Ah… Yeah. Obviously," Yu sighed as she shot to her feet. "It's late. Go get a good night's sleep. I'll be around… You know, patrolling."
"Then I know that I can rest easy," Shirou did the same. "Take care, Yu."
"You too, Shirou."
As he left, he made sure to send her a look of appreciation. Yu, who had yet to turn her back, smiled the same way.
… However, as he left for his cabin, he caught the sight of a figure crouched in the bushes. This figure didn't realize that he had been caught, but once Shirou stopped beside him, his head poked out with a look of slight embarrassment.
"… Hi?"
"Hello, Kouta."
"... I, uh… didn't mean to eavesdrop. This is where I usually go."
"It's fine," Shirou said. "But you should probably head back soon. It's late. Wouldn't want to make Miss Mandalay worry, now do we?"
"She can–" Kouta paused from what looked to be an angry retort. He looked back at Shirou before sighing. "... I guess."
"... Want me to accompany you? We're going the same way anyway."
He instantly regained a look of anger.
"What? You want to act like a wannabe hero?"
"Maybe," Shirou smiled. "I always wanted to be an ally of justice, so I guess that fits."
"You know that you're probably gonna die a hero," Kouta narrowed his eyes further. "... That lady too. All heroes wind up dead sooner or later and leave their families behind. Always!"
Shirou paused.
"... Yeah, I guess that's true," Shirou scratched the back of his head. "But even so, their life had meaning. The people they saved–"
"Then what about me!? They just up and–!" He stopped as if realizing something, given the way Kouta's eyes turned to him, before growling and retreating into the bush. However, Shirou could probably piece together what was left unsaid.
"... I see," he muttered.
What about the people they left behind?
Considering Kouta had overheard his and Yu's conversation… he likely knew that Shirou lost his parents. It hadn't hurt him given that they were dead in the fire, but Kouta must've related somehow given the tact he was showing. It was a stark difference to the spitfire that hit Midoriya in the nuts yesterday.
As for how Kouta related to him… his parents, most likely. Shirou didn't want to assume, but a part of him couldn't help doing so. Given his apparent hatred towards heroes, his parents must've been heroes too.
… He could just walk away.
He sent a look behind him. Yu was long gone, likely off to properly continue patrol, so it was just them. He steeled himself with a sigh before sitting beside the bush.
Nevermind. It just wasn't in his nature to leave this alone– not when he knew he could help with it, even a little.
"I'm not sure what answer you're looking for, or what exactly is ailing you, but if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears."
"... Does it get better?"
"I can't say. I wound up with amnesia so I don't remember my birth parents. All I know is that they died in the fire they found me in," Shirou felt that it was best to be honest here. "But I do remember the one who adopted me."
"That hero from before?"
"A man named Kiritsugu. He saved me from a fire, but he isn't with us anymore. Gone from illness," he admitted. Kouta's head popped out from the bush with a scrutinizing eye. "He was the first to adopt me."
The kid's scrutiny paused.
"He… Kiritsugu did his best to raise me, but he died when I was twelve. The circumstances are probably different from yours… but it did get better. The loss hurts at first, but it helps to remember the good times."
Kouta looked to give it some consideration. "... I'm sorry for bringing it up."
"It's fine. Kiritsugu left me behind, but he also left me behind something too."
"And what's that?"
"A dream."
"... Let me guess, to become a hero?"
"To become an ally of justice– that which he tried desperately to do in life but could never do," Shirou nodded at the disgusted tone. Kouta was free to think of what he wanted regarding his dream. It wouldn't change how Shirou felt. "But less about that. What about you?"
What did they leave behind?
"You already know Mandalay," he muttered. "She's the one my… my parents wanted to take care of me if they ever…" Shirou gave Kouta the time to find the right words. "There's a… she's the one taking care of me, but she also handles the money that my parents left behind. She said that there's enough to pay for me until I graduate college– whichever one I pick."
"That's good," Shirou paused. "... Hmm, I don't think I ever checked if Kiritsugu left something like that for me."
Then again, Fuji-nee might've been handling that for him. He hadn't ever really been struggling financially, so he supposed it didn't matter.
"So all he left you was a dream? What stopped him? Did he have a bad quirk?"
Shirou paused.
"... Hm. It wasn't really because he lacked power, but… I suppose it was his reason for trying to become one."
He didn't have an answer there… but Archer's memories did. Both Archer and Kiritsugu despaired once they realized what they did–saving everyone was impossible. Archer gave up while Kiritsugu tried settling to save the majority.
Shirou wasn't ignorant of the fact that Kiritsugu was an international assassin– at least not anymore. That had been a surprise, but not as much as it should've been. But how would he explain this in a manner Kouta would understand…
"... Let's say that there's a pie," Shirou started. "Kiritsugu wanted to make sure that most of that pie remained"
To save everyone.
"What does a pie have to do with this?"
"It's an analogy," Shirou said. "But people wanted that pie. They were hungry–"
–and always tried to kill each other–
"–so a piece of that pie needed to be given. He'd always try to give people a small portion of that pie, but eventually, only a small bit of the pie remained. The effort to stop that pie from being eaten was futile in the first place. If a third of that pie was always given away, eventually there'll be less pie than when he started."
"… I think I get it. This is fractions, right?" But he frowned. "… What's the analogy here?"
"Replace the pie with human lives."
Kouta paused.
He grimaced and looked away in disgust.
"… That's why becoming a hero is pointless."
"I suppose so," Shirou ceded. "Kiritsugu came to that realization late in life, right before he adopted me."
"And he left you that?" Kouta couldn't hide the look of both disgust and confusion. "What's the point? All heroes are idiots who leave the people they care about behind to help strangers. Why bother becoming a hero if you knew that?"
"Because…" Shirou paused to consider. "… A purely selfish reason, I suppose. I just wanted to save people as he saved me."
The joy behind his smile was real. He longed to smile like that one day, but he also wanted to make sure that nobody cried in front of him. It was that simple and–as that smug bastard Archer pointed out–selfish wish that drove him.
"… You're an idiot too then."
"I'm often called that," Shirou smiled, thinking back to Rin.
"I don't get you," Kouta frowned deeper. "I thought… I thought that, when you mentioned your parents, I thought that you'd get it, but you're an even bigger idiot than my parents ever were!"
Before Shirou could get another word in, Kouta retreated into the bushes and made a mad sprint away. He was likely taking a different path back to the lodges.
He sighed.
"… I guess I am a third-rate, huh?"
"Uh… I don't think so, I think? You gave it your best!"
Shirou blinked before sighing.
"Is this sneak up on Shirou day, Midoriya? If so, I missed the memo."
"Sorry," Midoriya muttered as he poked his head out from behind a tree. "Mandalay was getting worried so she asked me to look for him, but I couldn't find the timing."
"Let's just head back to the lodge," Shirou got onto his feet. "We need rest for the training tomorrow."
"Yeah," his classmate gave a wry smile before it turned apologetic. "… Sorry, by the way, for eavesdropping."
"If you keep what you heard to yourself, then we'll be fine," Shirou snorted before shaking his head. "But really, I didn't mind."
"But I do. That's why I apologized…" he paused. "I should hurry along and find Kouta," Midoriya decided to just give him a nod before they went their separate ways. Though, his classmate did seem to want to hand out one last remark. "… By the way, I don't think you're third-rate either. If that was true, then I'd be sixth-rate."
"I'm flattered that you think that way, but don't put yourself down," he smiled. "I've seen the effort you put in. You're doing good."
And hopefully… he'd done enough.
Something told Shirou that they'd need it.