A Tarnished Hero

Izuku opened the door to the classroom, dozens of eyes staring right back into him in either fear and apprehension. There was a bit of loathing there as well, but that doubled back into fear because of what he let them go through yesterday.

Taking a slow gait towards the teacher's desk, Izuku ignored the pelting gazes coming from the class, all the while humming a tune because he knew it would irritate them even further. It took a long, breathtaking few seconds before Izuku reached the desk. With a thud, the stack of papers he was holding slammed onto the desk via gravity, a slip of paper flying for a moment before being grabbed and neatly slotted back into place.

"So, how are you all feeling?" If the unamused glares were any indication, they were still feeling a bit peeved from yesterday. "Well, if you can glare like you wanted to murder me, then it means you're all fine to undertake this next lesson." A hand raised from the crowd. It came from a blue-haired teen wearing spectacles. Izuku acknowledged him with a nod and said bluenette put his arm down like a rigid statue.

"Sir, if I may speak for the entirety of our class." If he wasn't wrong, the bluenette's name was Iida Tenya. And from the mouth of Aizawa, a stickler for the rules. A.K.A., he has a massive stick up his ass. "Your instructions yesterday have left us… a bit peeved… And I mean this in the most respectful way possible. Please, would you reconsider putting us through your trials again? I don't think even Pro Heroes go through them on a daily basis."

"... Okay first off, are you idiots?" Izuku was supposed to go easy on them today. Nezu and the other teachers made sure to tell him that what he did yesterday was something not to be done again. Iida, however, was making him wish to damn the consequences and teach them the meaning of reality. "Pro Heroes don't go through them on a daily basis? Are you being serious or sarcastic?"

A scowl replaced Izuku's grin, his brows furrowed as he glared at Iida. The bluenette went stiff as rod, Izuku slowly approaching him menacingly. Some of the students stood up from their chairs to intervene, but a single glare was enough to make them have second thoughts.

"Secondly, do you think being heroes are all rainbows and sunshine? Beat a villain here and there, then pose for a camera? Is that all you think heroes are?" Some of the students wilted at the harsh tone, but it was better they hear this now rather than later. "Where do you get your information?"

"M-My brother… He's a pro hero with his own agency. He tells me all kinds of stories about the hero… business…" After each and every word, Izuku stepped closer and closer, until both of them were inches apart.

"Let me guess, it's mostly his achievements? What about the struggles? Did he ever show you the other side of the business? The part where heroes go home in body bags and caskets?" Leaning forward, Izuku came nose to nose to Iida, the bespectacled teen nervously sweating as he fidgeted in place. Leaning back, Izuku regarded the rest of the students. "How about all of you? Where do you get your information about heroes? Don't tell me they're just from the news?"

All of them had their mouths shut. Of course, they would. Most of the hero hopefuls in this day and age were busy glamouring at the front of hero culture. But they never did stop to think about what went on behind the scenes. Injuries, accidents, ambushes… Deaths…

There was no doubt the HPSC – from what Nezu had offhandedly commented – were scrubbing most of those accidents from ever entering the news at all. At most, only about two out of ten incidents were listed on the news about heroes being either beaten or being forced to unsubscribe from life. The other eight were just the usual hero glorifying bullshit that was spewed on mass to the public.

"And what if they are?" A ravenette – Yaoyorozu Momo if the class list was to be believed – piped up from her chair.

"Well, it's simple really. Don't believe anything the media says, not in this day and age." Izuku snorted as he remembered some of the news he had watched and re-watched. All Might was a glaring example of this. If a debilitating injury on Japan's number one hero was scrubbed off the face of the Earth, how hard would it be to sweep some minor deaths under the rug. Otherwise, why would the Hero profession be this dream job that every kid wanted when they were just a wee baby? "When was the last time you all heard of a hero passing away that wasn't part of a giant fucked up situation? Or how about comparing the amount of retired heroes compared to deceased ones?"

This got Yaoyorozu to purse her lips, a thoughtful look overcoming her face as she cupped her chin with her right hand. Simultaneously, those that had the bearings of an intellectual person did the same, face scrunching up in thought as they tried to recall the last time a hero was pronounced dead.

Spoiler alert, that was months ago, and it was all about a duo of heroes – a married couple at that – dying to a villain named Muscular all the while saving hundreds of lives. Even in their deaths, they were used as an agenda to push their narrative. It was sickening.

It might look a bit cynical to say that, but he wasn't wrong. The hero's life shouldn't be glamorized. It should be taught as it is, otherwise, kids would grow up believing all the bullshit and have their lives cut short because they weren't ready…

Just like he was…

Mentally shoving that thought down, Izuku turned around and went back to the teacher's desk, leaving the students looking either thoughtful or downright horrified. Grabbing the stack of papers he had brought earlier, he distributed a piece of paper to each student, all of them looking up at him confused. After a very long minute that felt like it stretched into an eternity, Izuku went back to the teacher's desk and opened his mouth.

"Now, there will be no practical physical activity today, and since the curriculum mandates I teach you something, even if I am very much not trained to do so, here is what we're going to do." He grabbed a piece of paper he had left for himself, waving it around as it swished in the air. "There are a series of questions there and I want all of you to answer them. Quite simple. Don't worry, this will not be graded and thus, will not affect your final performance. However, answer stupidly and you'll find yourself wishing you hadn't."

And so began one of the hellish essay writing tests class 1-A had ever done.

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Melina observed the entire class with a watchful eye, sometimes going over a student's shoulder to see what one was writing. To be honest, she had no idea what any of them were writing, the written language vastly differing from that of her own. There was a silver lining, however, as evident from how she could understand her companion, the verbal language was something she could understand.

She didn't know why, and she didn't know how, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? It made it infinitely easier watching those moving picture shows.

Leaning forward, she hummed as she listened to the muttering of one of the students. He was plain-looking, with a thick tail that no doubt would be able to support his entire weight while fighting.

"The hell are these questions…?" Trying to remember the name of the student from the list, she snapped her fingers when she recalled it – Mashirao Ojiro, or Ojiro Mashirao if she were to use Japanese naming standards. "If there are no other choices and the situation is dire, who would you rather save? The poor who have nothing left to live for, or the rich with the means to do good?"

Scratching his head, Ojiro played with his pen as he stared a hole into the piece of paper. All over the classroom, similar things were happening with the other students. Some were scratching their heads, others had their foreheads on the table, a few were writing on the paper.

Was the question really that hard? It's just a simple prompt. If the poor man didn't want to live anymore, then might as well leave him to his miserable fate. Save the one who wants to live and let them create a better future, so that no more poor men may be created in this cruel world.

Circling around the room while she continued to observe with a keen eye, she managed to spot the ash blond – the one whose fault lies in tormenting her companion for the most part of his young life – muttering to himself as he scribbled on a piece of extra paper.

Curious, she approached with slow steps, a sharp glint in her eyes. What could possibly be in the young one's mind? Would it be full of narcissism? Like he had when he was younger as described by her companion? Would it be of regret and shame after he had learned that even with the world bearing down on him, her companion still saved him after all he had done?

Leaning forward, her ear nearly touched his cheek, the proximity so close, she could feel the blonde's every breath. Not that it makes that much of a difference, she could choose whether to show herself or not. Perks of being completely spectral. She still retained her senses, however muted it was.

She could not understand what he was muttering underneath his breath, the words so fast and so hurried that she wasn't able to comprehend most of it. However, she did manage to understand parts of it.

Words like Deku, death, resurrection, and quirks were some of the words she managed to pick up. The rest were just gibberish. Taking a glance at the paper, she still had no idea what any of it meant, but there were a lot of characters. About a page full.

Blinking, she stepped away from the ruminating blond and continued to roam around the room. Perhaps she would find some more interesting bits with the other students.

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Later that night, Izuku yawned as he laid on the bed. Melina was seated on a chair nearby, nose deep in a notebook she was currently writing, face in utmost concentration. A bit curious, Izuku decided to check up on what the spectral girl was doing.

"What you up to, Melina?" Izuku rolled over, face relaxed and body at rest.

"Just jotting down notes about this world. Just imagining the Lands Between with even a fraction of your world's technology is quite a thought." Now that he was thinking about it, yeah, he could see where Melina was coming from. He could just imagine how fast it would be to traverse the entire continent with a helicopter.

A snout booped him on the head, and Izuku was quick to push it away.

"Torrent! Stop that!" The snout didn't cease booping into him and he relented. "Okay! Fine! We don't need helicopters in the Lands Between. Happy now?"

Torrent neighed and retreated from Izuku, the spectral steed vanishing into blue mores of light. Izuku sighed, hand coming to his forehead.

"You should know better by now that Torrent is a possessive being." Melina snorted, focus taken away from the notebook to spectate the amusing scene before her. "Months of camaraderie, and you still make the same mistake. Makes me think why Torrent saw fit to choose you."

"Maybe because I don't know the concept of giving up?" Izuku grinned and Melina's only response was a deadpan. "Just look at my fight with Godrick and tell me otherwise."

Melina went back to writing in her notebook. Izuku took that as a win. Tease him will she? He'll retort with cold hard facts. Relaxing in his bed, Izuku closed his eyes and let the darkness of the night take him away.

Tomorrow is another day.

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A few weeks had gone by and Izuku's routine stayed the same. Wake up, eat, laze around for the morning, then head to class to instruct either class 1-A or class 1-B based on how he was feeling. The curriculum? Props given to Nezu for making a comprehensive curriculum that really gives the students valuable information on how to proceed in their Hero careers, but Izuku didn't care.

Theory only gets them so far. Sure, there were the internships, but that wasn't due for the week after the Sports Festival, which was a week from now. Some of the students had taken to his teachings like fish to water. A notable one being his former tormentor. It gave him… indescribable feelings whenever he taught the ash-blond, but hey, fate sometimes gives a person either shit hands, or frankly confusing ones.

Then there was the half-toned one. Or if he were to take a page from Katsuki, half-n-half bastard. To be honest, the nickname was ringing true the more time he spent teaching the teen. After all, who else but a bastard would refuse to use half his power in a situation where lives were on stake?

Every time he laid eyes on his dual-toned hair, the disgust welling up in his gut clambered back up, only to be pushed down with sheer force of will. It would be unsightly to show the students a side of him he kept buried beneath lock and chain.

Aside from the infuriating Todoroki spawn – and wasn't that a surprise, he was actually Endeavor's son, the second top hero of Japan – there were others who were terrified of him. One need not look further from the purple midget posing as a bowl of grapes with his hero costume… One that looked eerily similar to a diaper.

Other than him, there was the other one from class 1-B, the American girl with a Texan accent. Funnily enough, even with his minor ability to understand English, something probably brute-forced his brain to understand most spoken languages on Earth because as long as they were verbal, he could understand her as if he was fluent in the English language.

It was funny seeing her pale when she realized that he heard her swearing at him in English underneath her breath.

It was a fun few weeks. A time in his hectic life that he could use to relax and just let go. Forget the burden of vying for the place of the Elden Lord. He could just be Izuku Midoriya, a teen turned man plucked from his world and deposited into another. A man who had seen no rest ever since he was dropped into the Lands Between.

A man who had learned the fate of his own flesh and blood. He needed time to grieve for the loss, and the past few weeks were a godsend. If he learned about it when he was back in the Lands Between, who knew what might've happened to him?

Sighing, Izuku got up from the couch, hand on the remote, pressing the power button to shut the television down. Blinking, he wondered what was happening now in the Lands Between. Taking down Godrick was not a small feat, no matter how inconsequential the demigod was to the throne of the Elden Lord. Did Limgrave change? Did Stormveil Castle get deserted once the lord they were serving was gone? Did new Tarnished populate the Lands Between because there were no longer those that hunted them in Limgrave?

A lot of questions and not enough answers. He supposed that he would know once he gets back… Whenever he gets back… Sir Gideon Ofnir himself was stumped at the current situation, his nose buried deep within various books and scrolls trying to find a way to get him back. After all, a dead pawn was a useless pawn.

He didn't say it out loud, but he could feel the way the old Tarnished felt about him.

A knock on the door caught his attention, just in time for him to lay down the remote on the table. Heading over with a hum, he twisted the knob and the door went open, revealing the very familiar rat with a large smile on his face.

"Good morning Midoriya." Nezu chirped joyously. "Sorry to come in unannounced, but I have something to tell you, personally."

"Oh? Now I'm curious." Izuku grinned. Knowing how the rat operated after weeks of being near him, he knew that Nezu didn't do things by halves. No, he had something in that maniacal mind of his, and Izuku had the idea that what he had in mind counted him as well.

"How would you like to help in devising the events for the Sports Festival?" Nezu's maniacal grin told him everything he needed to know.

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A/N: Been very unproductive this week. Every time I try to write, I just stare blankly at the screen without doing anything for a few minutes, before putting it off and saying I'd write a few hours later. Lo and behold, I didn't get jack shit done and now I feel like shit.

Hopefully, this writer's block, or whatever the hell is kidnapping my muse goes away. I still need to finish up the Fallout crossover, goddamnit.

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