Things seemed like they were moving towards an escalation in the severity of the situation. The blue haired girl, Ume as Kazuo would come to know, was quick to reply to Nobu. He liked that. Hopefully others were as strong willed and ready to butt heads as her. He wasn't one for unnecessary conflict, but as with any other field, competition was the name of the game. This was no different than being a pro hero, even if the school took things to the extreme.

"Looks like..." Before Kazuo could continue another voice rose about the room.

“Hey! Idiots! What do you think you’re doing?”

He flinched somewhat started by the sudden appearance of another person. He turned to find to source of the voice and his eyes widened. Knightmare. Holy shit. He was shocked. His sister had told him god knows how many stories about the diminutive hero before and throughout her stay in America to work as a hero out there.

“And you! Moron number one! Get off that desk now unless you want to go home to daddy and say you got expelled for being a halfwit!”

When she began to speak to Noboru he couldn't help himself. He tried to hold it back, but a small chuckle escapes. He tried to hide it by transitioning into a soft cough, turning his face just out of the line of sight of the legendary hero. Idiot... He thought to himself with a silent groan. This likely wouldn't bode well for them. Still, his ears perked up as she continued.

“What? What’re all of you looking at? Never seen a teacher before or some crap? Did you think you were going to be instructor free?”

He wanted to respond. Comment on the fact that they probably weren't expecting to look older than their instructor. Comment on how it wasn't their fault she didn't give that commanding feeling by walking in the room out of her hero gear. But doing that would likely be akin to suicide for his future career as a hero. Boy, wouldn't his dad love that? He scoffed at the thought. Although, in retrospect it would have probably sounding like he was scoffing at the words of their apparent instructor. Still, this was gonna be an interesting experience for sure, given the colorful cast of would be heroes.

Noboru’s eyes narrowed into slits of crimson, sweeping over the classroom like a hunting hawk. It seemed that his declaration was to be met with only silence. But only a fool would concern themselves only with the “what” of a situation; the “why” was equally important. Were these students shy? Cowed by the harsh truth that they are about to face? Astonished by his doctrine? Or, unthinkably, were they really stupid enough to ig–

At that moment, some bumpkin with a fruit walked in and said something dumb about a tropical fruit.

Noboru thought, narrowed eyes now tinged with disbelief and suspicion as they locked onto the big lad that had so rudely shattered the atmosphere he had meticulously crafted. Moving his focus to the fruit, the arrogant youth rolled his eyes and decided that this kid and his fruit wasn’t worth the effort. He didn’t even like pineapple In the first place, and sharing tribute was laughable. Noboru would have made a comment about that, had a certain someone not lacked the wisdom to prevent inane drivel from spewing out of her mouth like shitty water from a backed up toilet.

‘How dare this… this…’ Noboru quickly counted up the seats in his head, ‘seventh-rate loser have the audacity to spout such stupidity about me!’

Thinking about it brought red to his ears and rage to his mind. He gritted his teeth like he wanted to crush his molars into a fine dust and glared daggers into the sickly haired girl. It wasn’t simply that she had challenged him; a hero welcomes all challenges, after all. No, it was the precedent, the principle, and the fact that people were ignoring him now! Even that Kazuma poser, who was just earlier making a pitiable attempt at suppressing his indignation, was now focused on that pineapple bumpkin, Shinji. ‘Figures. Fickle bastards.’

Of course, he couldn’t let this transgression stand either way. Those were some fighting words, and Noboru was prepared to give a hands-on demonstration of the vast gap that existed between himself and these non-believers. His hand reached to roll back the hem of his sleeve, and his mouth formed into the first syllables of a venomous retort… but it was all for naught.

Noboru, mid-sleeve roll, slowly turned his head to the high-pitched, ill-natured voice that had cut through the room like a knife through butter. ’A child?’ he thought immediately, eyebrow raised. Quickly, he connected the dots. ’Wait, the great Knightmare is just some short little girl? Pfft. Overcompensating with that quirk of yours, are we?’

The irony was lost on him.

Fortunately for Noboru, before he could break out into laughter, Knightmare directed a command his way: get off the desk or get out of the school. And fortunately for the classroom, Knightmare’s sudden arrival had been sufficient to diffuse Noboru’s volatility – for now.

“Hmph. Fool. Even the teacher acknowledges me as number one*,” Noboru huffed. Slowly, the redness faded from his expression, replaced by that insufferable smugness. “Better be happy that she'll be the first to teach you a lesson at this school.” He hopped off the desk in acquiescence of his instructor’s wishes. It wouldn’t do to sink to his inferiors’ level in front of a pro-hero, and he could always teach these fools the unfairness of world at a later point; this was a hero school after all.

The imperious imp forced his chair out from under his desk and promptly sank into it. Resting his feet on the desk and leaning back like the platonic conception of a middle school-aged cool guy, he gave a ‘go on’ hand gesture to the diminutive teacher, as if he believed she was waiting for his permission to continue (he did).

_{*it should be noted that Knightmare’s actual inflection was “moron number one” not “[you] moron, number one.” NobuNobu is, of course, both of these.}

---

It was at this point that Hirohiko finally unfroze from where he'd been facing the wall. Who was it who'd shouted down the flashy boy who was practically the only one his height?

It...seemed to be a little girl? But...did that mean Knightmare was actually a robot or a suit that she piloted with her quirk? That'd be awesome! If someone like that could use her quirk to become a powerful hero in spite of NEVER getting taller, maybe he could do the same thing! Clearly, she was actually the best choice to teach someone like him and...well, wasn't she actually really, really mean and scary though?

Hirohiko got to his seat, still pleasantly surprised that he was nearly half-way away from being at the bottom like he'd expected he'd be in the end. Still, he wanted to know why Knightmare had chosen not to hide her now-obvious smol-ness, given that he struggled to be taken seriously himself at times for that very reason.

"Um, excuse me sensei! Why did you choose to walk into the classroom out of your armor? I mean, people are more used to your armored appearance, so why did you want to make this kind of first impression instead?"

The fact that asking such a thing might be suicide didn't occur to Hirohiko at all, a testament to the mental density that came with his physical density.

The “pint-sized” heroine pressed her teeth down, as she walked forward, stopping just before the second row of seats as one of the students behind her asked her a question; a question that sounded like one she had heard a thousand times or more. It was a question that the other teachers of Ishin Academy had already joked about. Even after over a decade of proving herself as a pro-hero, it still came up, and it still happened to bother her. After all, it was something she had no control over and would never have control over. It was why she had made her hero identity like it was; strong and unflinching, tall and broad-shouldered. Some people didn’t even know the metallic knight hero was a girl at all. Was it a mistake to sign on as a teacher to shed that in front of a bunch of petulant brats? Despite being starkly annoyed she looked at the boy who asked the question and memorized his seating in reference to the chart given.

Hirohiko Yamabuki. Seat six. Sapporo native. Emitter. Mass manipulation. 152 centimeters.

Hirokhiko was short—though even now at his age he was taller than Knightmare as an adult. The brown-haired pro-hero wasn’t sure to make of him but at the very least appreciated his sense of manners and tone. She didn’t want her height to be a spectacle, but she did wonder if her height meant something to him. Why else mention it like he had? She decided to not yell at him and instead bring up the answer that Snowman had told her to make if a student asked about their appearance in the classroom being starkly different than their guises as heroes. It’s a “humanizing experiment of trust and professionalism”. She remembered her rolling her eyes at the statement in Snowman’s office. So she would say it her way instead. Her way was better.

“No instructor at this academy will be in uniform with the rare exception of training exercises and the opening ceremony. We are not fighting villains, but are presenting ourselves as teachers. It’s pretty simple if you think about it.”

As she answered she sent a foot backward into the leg of Noboru Nobunaga’s chair, causing the student to violently crash to the ground.

“Also. Sit upright. You’re a student of Ishin Academy, not a burger flipper at MgRonalds. Act like it.” She commented, generally telling the class as a whole as she made her way to her desk.

True to Kazuo's expectations Noboru was the the first to really speak after Knightmare's entrance. The idiot had no sense of anything that didn't involve himself or showing how "great" he was. Kazuo was used to idiots like that, but this guy royally pissed him off for some reason. He sucked his teeth at the boy's comment.

"Yeah, we are lucky." He spoke aloud as he took the time to make his way to his desk as was necessary. "I mean at least now we know that our teacher is competent." He completed the though as he took his seat, coincidentally beside the loud mouthed, self-proclaimed number one. Soon though he heard a familiar voice. Hirohiko what are you doing? He asked fighting the urge to face palm as his friend and fellow Sapporo native questioned the Pro on what could very well have been a touchy subject. Still, that was part of the guy's charm. At least Knightmare hadn't decided to rip him a new one. Kazuo would not have wanted to see that.

Still, what came next he couldn't possibly have been prepared for. Nor, could he have stopped himself from belting out the laugh that came from him when it happened. As she answered Hirohiko she took the time to kick the chair out from under Noboru making him drop to the floor.

“Also. Sit upright. You’re a student of Ishin Academy, not a burger flipper at MgRonalds. Act like it.”

Kazuo tried hard, to stop the laughter. He stifled it, forced his mouth shut, covered it. But every time he looked at Noboru he broke out again. It only went on for roughly 2 or 3 minutes before he quieted down, but even then you could hear little chuckles coming from the young man every time he glanced in Nobu's direction, even if they were beginning to border inaudible.

"Ex-excuse me," the tall boy's gentle voice came from the side of Knightmare now as her attention was more on yelling at several of the other students. "I just wanted to give you this." He held the pineapple in his hand outstretched towards the tiny woman, looking completely and utterly awkward. "My grandmother used to bring pineapples to every new person she met," he added sheepishly, "and she said my mom did too." His voice trailed off into silence after he added that. Mom. Why was he bringing her up out of the blue? After all, his father constantly told him--

---

"Don't talk about her!" Renji Tanaka's voice was loud and gruff as he pushed himself out from under the large automobile he was working under. "Especially not while i'm working! Now hand me that wrench-" he said, pointing to the tool shelf in the Tanaka garage. The Tanaka Garage was probably the best garage for race cars in all of Osaka, and Renji Tanaka, his father and even his grandfather had made it such. In his mind, the entire Tanaka Clan would run the business, from father to son until the end of time. Until Shun came up with that letter.

"My aptitude scores put me toward the hero track. They say that I have a power very similar to another hero, dad. Why won't you tell me about mom's quirk?"

"She didn't have a quirk, like I said. She didn't have a quirk, she got sick when you were little and died. So drop it!" Renji was already up, walking towards his son, yanking the wrench out of his hand. "And the hero track? Don't make me laugh. You're going to work here with your younger brother. That's your track in life son. Not getting yourself killed as a hero for people who don't even care about you.

Shun's eyes closed tightly as his father went back to working on the car, using his quirk to stretch his limbs around and into the engine of the car.

---

---

Shun just stood there, wondering why he thought back to that awful memory of that day. Why did this lady make him think so much about it? Maybe it was how her yelling reminded him of his father. No, that wasn't it at all. He then realized that he was away from his seat, and had approached his sensei without permission. He deeply bowed his head, his face growing deep scarlet, still holding the pineapple out for the woman. "I'm-i'm sorry I got up without permission! I wasn't thinking!"

Oh he was a barrel of laughs.

The brown-haired woman squinted as she swiped the pineapple out of the stammering student’s hands, her expression still as cold as it was moments before. Between the antics of the loud-mouthed seat number two, the laughter of seat number three, and everything else happening in the room, there wasn’t the silence and order she wanted in the room. She wondered if other teachers in the academy had similar issues with their first years. As the boy bowed his head in embarrassment, she placed the pineapple down on her desk with a loud thud.

“It’s fine. Return to your desk.” She managed in the nicest tone since she had entered the classroom.

As the boy reacted to her gesture, Knightmare leaned to her right and retrieved a stack of papers from the desk—lined notes of the seating arrangement, the students present and accounted for, and notes about them from their evaluations. Her eyes returned to the students in front of her as she placed the papers to the right of her, the pineapple sitting next to them. She didn’t immediately need them, but it was good to look orderly and Knightmare didn’t exactly get her name from taking crap from anyone. She focused her line of sight on the “problem students”, as she was in no mood to deal with comedians or upstarts.

The entrance of her peers into the classroom elicited a similar course of action from Nadeshiko, with the pink slime girl shuffling in behind some of the others whom she had not the courage to look at. The seatings arrangements were not unusual, but a cursory look across the various slips of paper folded on the desks proved... Problematic. Finding her card was no trouble at all, but its location, atop the center most desk in the classroom, could only twist the melancholic line that her lips naturally formed into a small downward pout. This was not at all what she had wanted.

Sure, being up front had its disadvantages, being the center of attention, but at least those ahead of her were not besieged upon all sides by classmates. The back row was preferable, away from most of the trouble and the perfect place to slink away unnoticed. But no, she had to be right in the middle, suffocated by her fellow heroes-in-training. There would be no hiding away or scooting to the back of the pack. There could be no going unnoticed whilst she sat there, or unbothered. The very thought made her anxious. A silly enough thing to worry over, considering the trials that those present would be facing in the coming months, but something which kept Nadeshiko ill at ease even as she pulled her chair out and settled down into it.

The cacophony of her class was already deafening. She kept her gaze down on the face of her desk, hoping that if she did not engage the others, perhaps she could be spared the verbal lashings some of her fellows were giving and receiving. Some of the voices seemed so quarrelsome, others arrogant, a few too boisterous for her taste but not malicious. Though she hadn't the courage to raise her gaze to meet the sources of these voices, she took solace in piecing together the personas of her comrades based on their initial interactions with one another. It was a welcome distraction from the butterflies in her belly.

One which served her well, as minutes passed by in the blink of an eye and soon, their teacher was upon them. The poor amalgamation of goo jumped at the shout that seemed to pierced the noisy classroom, turning her head sideways to peer through goopy bangs of mock hair. Their teacher was... She was...

She was so... Small!

Nadeshiko had never truly followed professional heroes. Anybody less than the greatest of the greats were lost upon her, so truly, even in costume the pint-sized heroine's claim to fame was something she was oblivious to. Perhaps that was for the best. It would have made the giggling born from the absurdity of her height and child-like appearance all the more difficult to suppress. She tried her hardest not to—this was to be their instructor for the rest of the year—but she couldn't stifle it in its entirety. Jiggling not unlike a bowl of Jello from the muffled snickering, the poor slime could only hope she wasn't the only one who found their teacher hilarious.

She was like a little angry grade schooler! In a little suit!

---

---

There were several moments where Namie found herself wanting nothing more than to shut the running mouth from that arrogant piece of shit, Noboru Nobounaga. Not even halfway through his first day and he was already spewing crap from his mouth about being 'great'. From Namie's point of view, he wasn't exactly sitting front and center like she was. Besides, Namie doesn't work so hard just to settle for second, and she was hoping the opportunity to humble Noboru came sooner rather than later this semester.

Fist clenched, Namie's boiling glare would drift over to the pineapple lad. The surprising gesture of gift-giving had left her baffled and she gestured, shaking her head. She kept her thoughts to herself though, it wouldn't be too prudent to be like that 'second seater', and well, Namie wasn't a warm person.

When their instructor, Knightmare, had finally made her appearance, Namie was left more in awe than anything else. There must have been a look on her face for when Knightmare drew attention to the looks, Namie turned away intending on focusing elsewhere. It was only a question by one of her classmates that Namie turned back around to follow their Instructor progress over to answer the question. Painful first question to ask, dude... Namie thought as she waited for some type of outburst but it never came. Instead, that student was left relatively unscathed, but much to Namie's delight, another student was not.

That kick to Noboru's chair was so sweet and satisfying that Namie's tough facade broke with her chuckling, admiring her instructor for being so bold. That one move was enough to convince her this might not be so bad.

Finding herself in a good mood, Namie finally managed bring herself out of her earlier silence. Raising her hand but not waiting to be called upon, Namie asked, "Knightmare Sensei, you mentioned training exercises earlier and I was wondering when the earliest exercise would be.". There was a temptation to brown-nose but Namie hated having that reputation and for others to do that, so she stated her inquiry and left it at that.

She’s eager. Good.

Knightmare appreciated the question, though she expected no less from seat number one.

“There will be plenty exercises soon enough, assuming you can handle them.”

Knightmare retrieved a piece of paper from the stack she had placed on the desk the only moment prior; specifically the one detailing the seating arrangements and the names of the students that she would have to deal with today and for the entire school year presuming they were not expelled, transferred, or retired from the hero course in that time. Her eyes moved to the paper for only a minute, recognizing the student’s name who had asked the question. It wasn’t an easy name to forget considering the fact it was the exact same name as a famous pop singer from the early twenty-first century. It was one of those funny factotums that a close friend used to make fun of her for in her days as a young hero.

She moved her eyes to the rest of the class; all ten of them were selected for this selection of the first year hero course at Ishin Academy. It almost seemed like ancient history where she sat in the very same shoes as the group in front of her. The boy who was trying to “mark his territory”, Nobunaga Noboru, was a lot like she was in her first day at Ishin—loud, bitter, angry, confident. It almost felt like she was kicked the leg of her own chair when she declared to put him in his place. Almost. She placed her hands on the table as she smirked at the thought. It was about time to focus on reining in the students in full.

“As you all have probably noticed, this classroom isn’t organized like the ones you’re accustomed to. Here at Ishin Academy we remind students of their place and inspire them to fight to the top. The designation on those papers on top of your desks? That’s exactly what you think it is. This girl in first? Look at her. Recognize them. This is the measure of your entire class and this is who all of you aspire to be better than. If you don’t meet the grade, don’t bother even trying. Each of you needs to have the ambition to be the number one prospect and by extension the number one hero.” She declared to the classroom, mincing absolutely zero words.

She motioned to the back of the class, not stopping to consider Amuro Namie’s feelings or even the person she was about to single out in the back of the classroom.

“Seat number ten? That is where you don’t want to be. For anyone in the back of the prospects here you need to show me something and show it quickly. Show me you aren’t the most likely to be class failure. Impress me. I want you to show me that you are better than number one. If you can’t, why are you even at Ishin? Everyone here needs to remember that this is not a game and from now on, going forward, you better start running because that finish line isn’t going anywhere. Ishin is not for the weak or spineless.”

Isabelle calmly sat through the commotion the rest of her class was making, intent to simply sit back and observe for the most part. When their teacher came in, however, Isabelle immediately straightened up in her seat, the woman's diminutive stature being what alerted her to the person she was dealing with first and foremost above all else. Her father had often told her stories about Knightmare back when the two of them had attended Isshin. Her father had also mentioned how he expected her to have grown at least a foot or so since they had last seen each other, but from where Isabelle was currently standing, that didn't seem to be the case.

Even with her lack of height, however, the Pro hero quickly and effectively made her presence known, quickly quieting the classroom, as well as seeking to put one of the more active troublemakers in his place. This demonstration of authority was soon followed, after a bit of Q and A with the top student Amuro, by an explanation of the seating system present within the class and what was expected of them because of it. The top were expected to never rest on their laurels, while the bottom was prodded to prove their worth quickly or find themselves left behind. A vicious and unforgiving sentiment that the school was known for, it still proved no less nerve-racking for Isabelle, ranked 8th in the total rankings of the class. A scoring far below what she desired or could find even remotely acceptable.

Once Knightmare had finished her speech, Isabelle considered asking about what the rest of the day would hold for them, but after some thought, felt it was an unnecessary question. She would likely start the days activities soon enough, so trying to prod the issue along with dumb questions would likely only serve to irritate her, as it was clear that Knightmare was not a patient woman. And so Isabelle waited, the only thing betraying the anxiety that was currently gnawing away at her soul being the relentless shaking of her legs, bouncing in place as a way to work off some of the nervous energy she felt building up inside of her.

@Inkarnate

Kazuo watched the events. Even the joy he got from the small bit of humiliation suffered by Noboru had faded with the words uttered by the pro hero Knightmare. He tangled his fingers together before his face, his elbows resting on the surface of the table before him. That seemed about right. This was what his father was getting at. But considering what the diminutive woman was saying, he was ranked 3rd in the class. He didn't want to admit it, but given that information Noboru was higher ranked. There could have been many reasons for that, but that didn't excuse his shit attitude. He sighed though, he wasn't one to accept defeat so easily.

I guess I'm gonna have to work harder. Worse than knowing the school system was so lackadaisically ranking their students and piling on the pressure to make them feel small and inadequate, was the fact that he could feel his blood boiling. the race to become number one was on and he wasn't about to be left behind. Nor was he about to let himself be so easily overtaken. He turned in his seat to glance back at those behind him and then back to the girl sitting before him. He took a deep breath. They were all aiming for the top. At least, in his mind they were. But he wasn't about to let this school change the way he thought. It wasn't war. He wanted the others to succeed as much as he wanted to succeed himself.

Still, the speech itself was funny to him. The prospect as a whole was amazingly hilarious too. He chuckled a bit. "Aim to be number one says the pro who hasn't reached the summit herself." He spoke under his breath. He wasn't trying to be rude... Well, he was. But not out of anger or malice. It was just laughable when he thought about it. He probably didn't even notice he'd said that, if it was loud enough to even be heard. His father had no doubt pushed him to this school to break him down, and the weak would be weeded out. He wasn't in that group. But neither should anybody else have been. We've strive for the top and work together to achieve even greater heights. That's what a hero is.