Today's chapter.
Bonuse chapter: 700PS
This chapter will explore the teacher's pov on Akira's situation, as what he did, is not very hero like.
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The sun hung low over U.A. High School, painting the sky in shades of amber and purple as it began to sink.
Aizawa stood near the window of the faculty lounge, one hand holding the blinds just slightly apart. His bloodshot eyes weren't admiring the sunset. Instead, his focus remained laser-sharp on the students.
More specifically, his attention locked onto three particular figures making their way down the tree-lined path.
Akira Shuzenji walked at the center of the small group. Beside him, Momo Yaoyorozu gestured enthusiastically with both hands, clearly deep in explanation about sothing. Even from this distance, Aizawa could tell she was probably talking about the chanics of her exoskeleton design or so other engineering marvel that had caught her attention. And completing this oddly dostic picture was the cat, leaping from Akira's shoulder to his head and back again, treating the boy like an obstacle course.
"Irrational," Aizawa muttered. "Completely irrational."
He let the blinds fall back into place with a soft click and turned away from the window.
Aizawa left the lounge without a word to the other teachers, navigating the corridors of U.A.'s main building.
He passed empty classrooms, walked through hallways decorated with photos of legendary alumni, and finally reached the elevator that would take him to the top floor.
The ride up was silent except for the chanical hum of the elevator car. Aizawa used the ti to organize his thoughts, ntally preparing his argunt. When the doors finally slid open, he stepped out into a corridor that felt completely different from the rest of the school. Here, everything was quiet.
He stopped in front of a heavy oak door.
Aizawa raised his hand and knocked once.
"Co on in!" A cheerful voice called from inside.
Aizawa unlocked the door and stepped in.
Principal Nezu's office was weird — part library, part war room, part mad scientist's laboratory. Tall bookshelves lined every available wall, packed tightly with books. Aizawa spotted titles ranging from advanced quirk theory to behavioral economics, from military strategy to child psychology(Sus). In the center of the room, a large whiteboard was covered in red marker ink.
Financial graphs, complex flowcharts with dozens of interconnected boxes, and several photographs of angry-looking n and won in expensive clothing were pinned or taped across its surface.
Principal Nezu stood on a small stool in front of this board, a red marker clutched in one tiny paw.
"Oh, hi Shota!" Nezu smiled, his expression radiating pure, innocent delight that fooled absolutely nobody who knew him. "Please, sit, sit! Would you like so tea? I just received a new blend directly from the Yaoyorozu family estate. It's quite excellent — tastes like capitalism and old money."
Aizawa completely ignored the tea offer, his attention imdiately drawn to the whiteboard.
"What are you doing?" he asked, though part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
"This?" Nezu gestured proudly at a photograph of a middle-aged man with a thick mustache. "Oh, just so light economic restructuring. I'm in the process of bankrupting Hanzo Industries. You know them right? Mid-tier support gear manufacturer, been around for about fifteen years. Unfortunately, they thought that selling illegal drugs to street gangs was an acceptable thod of improving their Q3 profit margins."
Nezu drew a large red 'X' over the man's face.
"People make a little money and suddenly think they're untouchable," the principal sighed, with genuine sadness. "They always forget that the modern economy is essentially a web of interconnected dependencies and vulnerabilities. And I, my dear Shota, am the spider sitting in the center of that web."
He tapped the marker against the board, creating small red dots.
"I shorted their stock three days ago, leaked docuntation of their offshore tax evasion accounts to both the national tax bureau and several investigative journalists, and this morning I successfully froze their primary operational assets through a series of perfectly 'legal' financial maneuvers. By Monday, their stock price should flatline completely."
Nezu looked at Aizawa with glittering eyes that had planned the downfall of organizations far larger than Hanzo Industries.
"Would you like to join in watching it happen? I have their stock ticker pulled up on my secondary monitor. Watching corrupt corporations collapse in real-ti is very relaxing."
Aizawa stared at his boss for a long mont. Good luck to them, he thought distantly. They're definitely going to need it. Possibly divine intervention, too.
"No, thank you. You can enjoy your economic warfare alone. I'm here for sothing else."
Nezu capped the marker. The playful energy in the room shifted slightly, becoming more focused. He hopped down from his stool and walked over to his desk.
"Oh..." The playfulness remained on the surface, but his eyes grew sharper, more analytical. "Let guess. Akira has already done sothing interesting?"
"You should already know what kind of personality he has," Aizawa said, sitting down on the chair opposite the principal's desk. "You put him in my class for a specific reason. This wasn't a random placent."
Nezu nodded slowly, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Please," Nezu said, settling into his own custom-made chair. "Tell exactly what happened. I do appreciate details."
Aizawa gave him a quick summary. The ball throw demonstration. The confrontation with Bakugo had escalated from verbal sparring to physical violence. The Blue Fla Hamr slaming into Bakugo's head. The imdiate, completely non-consensual field surgery Akira had perford on Bakugo's shattered limbs. And finally, the quiet threat whispered directly into the explosive boy's ear that had left Bakugo pale and silent.
"He broke a student's arm and leg," Aizawa concluded. "On the first day of school. Before official classes had even properly started. This is a problem."
Nezu listened attentively, occasionally sipping his tea. When Aizawa finished, the principal laughed.
"Well," Nezu chuckled, setting down his teacup with a soft clink. "He has gotten significantly better at managing his anger issues. A year ago, based on my observations, he might have just thrown the boy into the sun. Or turned him into a decorative lawn ornant. The fact that he limited himself to repairable damage shows remarkable growth."
Aizawa slamd his hand on the table.
"Principal," Aizawa said, his voice harder now. "This is not a joke. He is dangerous and unstable. He attacked a classmate with what could have been lethal force. If he had miscalculated, if his flas had burned too hot, if he had struck sowhere more vulnerable, Bakugo could be dead. We cannot ignore this."
Nezu put his teacup down carefully. When Nezu looked up at Aizawa again, the smile had completely vanished from his face.
"I am also not joking, Shota," Nezu said softly, and sohow that quiet tone carried more weight than any amount of shouting could have. "Not even slightly."
Aizawa paused, recognizing the shift in atmosphere.
"You rember the Muscular incident?" Nezu asked.
"Yes, I do," Aizawa started, then frowned as his mind began pulling up old mories, pieces of information he hadn't thought about in years.
"Two years ago. The Water Hose duo was killed during a mission in the Hida Mountains. A tragedy that shook the hero community. They were good people."
"And?" Nezu pressed gently, encouraging him to continue the thought.
"He was there," Aizawa realized, the pieces clicking together. "Shuzenji Akira. He was one of the survivors."
"Bingo," Nezu nodded slowly.
Nezu leaned forward slightly, his small paws folded together on the desk.
"I will not tell you all the details, Shota. That is Akira's choice whether to share his trauma or keep it private. I will respect that boundary. But what I can tell you is this: that incident changed him. Completely. It broke sothing deep inside him — and then he rebuilt it using fire and rage as his construction materials instead of whatever he had before."
Nezu gestured to a thick file on his desk labeled 'Class 1-A Student Profiles' in neat handwriting.
"Trust when I say this — I have known Akira for quite a while now. Yes, he is aggressive. Yes, he is cynical beyond his years. Yes, he has a much darker, more pragmatic view of justice than you or All Might or most professional heroes. But here is the crucial thing you need to understand: he is the absolute last person you would ever want becoming a villain."
"So we just turn a blind eye to his behavior?" Aizawa asked. "We let him assault other students because he has trauma in his past?"
"So incidents, yes," Nezu said with blunt honesty. "If he starts a fight unprovoked? No. Absolutely not. Punish him. But if he finishes a fight that soone else started? Then we carefully examine the context, the circumstances, and the escalation before making judgnts."
"That's not fair to the other students," Aizawa argued, though he could already feel his position weakening. "Bakugo was provocative, yes. But he didn't deserve a broken femur and a shattered radius. The punishnt far exceeded the cri."
"Yes," Nezu agreed simply. "But you should know better than anyone, Shota. You, who has spent years on the streets, seeing the worst of what quirk society produces. The world is not fair. It never has been. It never will be."
Nezu stood up on his chair to et Aizawa's eye level more directly.
"And Akira... he is an anomaly even among the exceptional students at this school. He doesn't just possess a rare quirk. He has what experts classify as a dual-nature emitter-transformation type, which appears in less than two percent of the population. But more importantly, his potential ceiling is genuinely terrifying to anyone who understands power scaling."
"I will say this clearly and without exaggeration: his potential is equivalent to President Ming of China. To All Might in his pri. To Star and Stripe of Arica. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Aizawa felt sothing cold settle in his stomach. He processed those nas carefully. The Titans. The individuals who sat at the absolute peak of quirk society. The people who weren't really 'heroes' anymore in the traditional sense. They were natural disasters in human form, strategic assets that entire nations built their defense policies around.
"A quirk with potential equivalent to them?" Aizawa asked, trying to make sure he heard that right.
"Perhaps even greater," Nezu added quietly. "Because, unlike most of them, Akira also has the complete backing of the single wealthiest dical family in all of Japan. He has essentially unlimited financial resources. If we push him away and give him reason to hate hero society... we don't just lose a potentially great hero. We create a Demon King."
Aizawa sighed.
"Fine," Aizawa grumbled. "I'll adapt my approach. But I will keep a very close eye on him. If he crosses certain lines, if he becos a genuine threat to the safety and well-being of this school and its students... I will stop him. Permanently if necessary."
Nezu nodded, his usual cheerful smile returning to his features.
"Perfectly understandable. That's precisely why I specifically chose you to be his horoom teacher, Shota. You are the only teacher in this entire school whose quirk can completely shut down his flas."
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How was it?? A little teacher's POV.
Let know your thougths.
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