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 something. Even from this distance, Aizawa could tell she was probably talking about the mechanics of her exoskeleton design or some other engineering marvel that had caught her attention. And completing this oddly domestic 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 mechanical hum of the elevator car. Aizawa used the time to organize his thoughts, mentally preparing his argument. 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.
"Come 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 men and women 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 some 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 immediately 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 some 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 method 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 documentation 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 me in watching it happen? I have their stock ticker pulled up on my secondary monitor. Watching corrupt corporations collapse in real-time is very relaxing."
Aizawa stared at his boss for a long moment. 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 something 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 me guess. Akira has already done something 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 placement."
Nezu nodded slowly, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Please," Nezu said, settling into his own custom-made chair. "Tell me 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 Flame Hammer slaming into Bakugo's head. The immediate, completely non-consensual field surgery Akira had performed 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 ornament. The fact that he limited himself to repairable damage shows remarkable growth."
Aizawa slammed 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 flames had burned too hot, if he had struck somewhere 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 somehow that quiet tone carried more weight than any amount of shouting could have. "Not even slightly."
Aizawa paused, recognizing the shift in atmosphere.
"You remember the Muscular incident?" Nezu asked.
"Yes, I do," Aizawa started, then frowned as his mind began pulling up old memories, 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 something 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 me 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?"
"Some 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 someone else started? Then we carefully examine the context, the circumstances, and the escalation before making judgments."
"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 punishment far exceeded the crime."
"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 meet 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 prime. To Star and Stripe of America. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Aizawa felt something cold settle in his stomach. He processed those names 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 medical 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 becomes 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 homeroom teacher, Shota. You are the only teacher in this entire school whose quirk can completely shut down his flames."
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How was it?? A little teacher's POV.
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