Grey — Roleplayer Guild

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.
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