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Shouto couldn’t remember wanting to be anything but a hero. Granted, his father hadn’t given him the luxury of having his own dreams, but with a powerful quirk like his, he likely would’ve gone that route regardless. It would’ve been a waste, and he had learned thanks to his father that wasting things was almost a criminal offense. He had a responsibility to be a hero – to the public, to his father, to his loved ones. He was meant to save lives.
Which was why the offer to teach came to him as a surprise.
Being the second youngest Number Two Hero was not unexpected. He was stronger than his father, after all, so it stood that he would beat his record. He didn’t mind the fact that he didn’t beat Hawks. At least by now, his father wasn’t disgruntled over it. If he was, he didn’t show it. They were supposedly beyond all that. Shouto was doing his job the way he wanted. He was a hero the way he wanted to be a hero.
Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t doing his job. He had made waves in the media. He was popular. He had more merch than his father. It was kind of weird seeing his name and face plastered everywhere, but he did find himself in the position of not wanting for money again.
Life was good, if not fulfilling. He wasn’t the Number One Hero, but he had little interest in fighting over the position. He could lose his spot as number two, and he would be fine. The mentality drove Bakugou crazy, but he was no longer in it for the rank. He wanted to be a hero, and that meant saving and protecting people. He had no desire to fight in a popularity contest.
It wasn’t until he received a letter from U.A. that he realized he didn’t have much of a desire about much of anything that came with being a hero.
“Entropy, sir?”
Shouto blinked at his secretary, who had given him his mail. He'd opened the letter without thinking in front of her desk, unaware of how it would change his world. “Ah, my apologies, Miss Tanizaki. Would you mind holding my calls for a moment? I need to make a personal call. I’ll let you know when I’m finished. If anyone needs me, tell them I’ll be with them when I’m finished.”
Tanizaki beamed brightly, sitting upright and saluting him. “You got it. No one will disturb you. I’ll make sure of it.”
He nodded and stepped into his office. Running his own agency meant everyone wanted a piece of him. His time was a precious commodity that he couldn’t afford to waste. That was what made Tanizaki such a good secretary. Despite being quirkless, he didn’t doubt her abilities for a second. The threatening glimmer of excitement in her eyes and sharp turn of her lips when she grinned assured him that no one would get past her. She doubled as a bodyguard for minor annoyances.
After sitting behind his desk, Shouto set the letter on top of it and pulled his cell out of his pocket. He eyed the letter, twirling it on his desk with one finger, before settling on a contact and making a call. The thing about being a hero in his position was that he had a lot of connections. He had someone he could call in almost any scenario. It was a good thing he had at least one of his old teachers still in his phone.
“Aizawa speaking.”
Shouto leaned back in his chair. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this letter, would you?”
“Ah, I wasn’t aware Nezu already sent it.”
“So you did.”
It made sense. Shouto didn’t think anything that happened at U.A. went past Aizawa. He might not have been the principal, but he was one of the most observant men Shouto had ever met. He didn’t always call people out on his observations – he didn’t bring up Shouto’s issues with his father so as to not embarrass him and figured out the truth of Midoriya’s quirk before being made aware – but his instincts usually proved correct.
“Was it you?” Shouto asked. “Did you make the suggestion?”
“Snipe is retiring, so it would stand that we find another hero with long-range capabilities to succeed him,” Aizawa explained. It wasn’t a direct answer, but it was enough. It had been him. “Other names have been brought up – Nezu wants multiple suggestions from different perspectives – but your name was tossed in by me and Yamada.”
“Why?” The question slipped out of Shouto before he could stop himself. He fought the urge to sigh.
The offer itself didn’t make sense. What had they seen in him that made them believe he was a good fit for a teaching position? Since when had he ever done anything that might suggest something like that? Present Mic might be prone to fits of fancy, but Aizawa was a logical man. Surely he knew Shouto wasn’t capable of being a good teacher. It wasn’t in him. He didn’t know anything about it.
“Do you ever feel like you could do more?”
Shouto furrowed his brow and sat upright. “What do you mean? I’m the Number Two Hero. I have one of the top agencies proficient in both villain takedowns and rescues. And according to my secretary, I am one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors.” He rolled his eyes. “She makes it sound like that’s a bigger deal than my hero rank.”
“All of that is incredible – I’m not downplaying your accomplishments – but is it truly what you want?”
“I…” Shouto clenched a fist on top of his desk. “I’m a step down from the top. I’m known around the world.”
“And that matters to you?” No, it didn’t. Aizawa was right to call him out on that. It sounded more like something his father would say. Shouto pressed his lips together, refusing to respond, but his old teacher didn’t need him to say anything to know his answer. “You’ve saved countless of lives. Accepting the position here does not mean you have to stop doing that. Many of us did both jobs.”
Shouto considered it briefly. “What about my agency?”
“That’s trickier since most of us didn’t have one when we were hired on,” Aizawa admitted. “You could ask All Might. He had an agency when he was hired on.”
“I still don’t understand why you named me.”
Aizawa sighed on the other end. “I’ve noticed a trend in the past decade or so – something other people might not consider until after the fact.” Again with the observant nature. During Shouto’s school days, his teacher seemed to know what they were up to even when he was sleeping in his bean bag. “Every year, more of the students we receive come from pro-hero families. It sounds normal at first glance, but…”
“But how many of them are pushed into applying,” Shouto finished for him.
“I don’t want students in here for the wrong reasons or for reasons that aren’t their own.”
Shouto’s traitorous heart skipped a beat. Reasons that weren’t their own. Shouto had wanted to become a hero, hadn’t he? His mother let him watch All Might videos when his father wasn’t around. He had said that he could become a hero with his own quirk. His quirk, not his father’s or his mother’s. Then again, even if he hadn’t been inspired to become a hero, his father would’ve forced it upon him anyways. He stamped his rivalry with All Might into Shouto’s mind. Thinking of becoming anything other than a hero wasn’t an option.
It was become a hero or become a hero. Putting aside the unusual villain attacks, Shouto’s first few months at U.A. were not like everyone else’s. There had been no excitement in him, not even during his first Provisional License Exam. It was win or nothing else. Failure was not allowed. He had to become a hero. There was no other choice.
“You would be uniquely suited to understanding students that have hero parents,” Aizawa said, “but more importantly, you know what not to do when teaching them.”
“I don’t know,” Shouto replied thoughtfully. “You pushed us pretty hard.”
“No more than I knew you could handle.” And he allowed for recovery time, something Shouto hadn’t had back home. It was hard as hell, but it wasn’t excruciating like training with his father had been. “You don’t have to give an answer right away, certainly not to me. Think it over. Talk about it with others. Feel free to ask anyone here questions. I didn’t think teaching was for me either when Kayama brought it up, but I’ve done some of my proudest work here. However, if you truly feel like you belong where you are, then turning it down is the best decision.”
Did he feel like he belonged here? Shouto had what many heroes dreamed of: an incredible rank, his own agency with dozens of sidekicks working under him, prestige, respect, money, power, fear. He had seen villains quake upon seeing him step onto the scene, unprepared to face off with a hero who was known more for his cold and quick takedowns than his mercy. Was that what he wanted though? His eyes scanned his modestly decorated office. Was this where he wanted to be? If his father had not pushed him into becoming a hero, would he honestly be in this position?
“I need a week,” Shouto finally said.
“You can take more if you like. There’s still the interviewing process, but you’re our top candidate. It’s a hell of a career change, but I think you have what it takes.”
Shouto smiled faintly. “You could be wrong, you know. I might make a terrible teacher.”
“I could be,” Aizawa conceded, “but I’m not.”
It was an unusual offer, but the more he thought about it, the more tempting it became. Running a hero agency was stressful, but that wasn’t the problem. Sometimes, he felt like a stranger in here. He would walk around and see the faces of the sidekicks he personally hired and not know what he was doing here. He could’ve sworn there was somewhere else he was needed, but he couldn’t remember. Midoriya said it was a side effect of always fighting. They were so used to being in action when they were clawing their way to the top that any downtime threw them off.
What if it wasn’t that? What if it was something else – something more? What if Aizawa was right? What if he was meant to do something else? What if he wanted to do something else but was too afraid to make that leap in thought himself?
A week. He would take a week to think it over. Whatever decision he landed on, he would stick with it to the very end. Shouto saw things through. He would weather this, as he’d done everything else in his life.