Work Header

The Illogical Fallacies of School-Place Discrimination

Work Text:

Aizawa Shouta knew that the other teachers didn’t mean to be complete idiots; no one, in his experience, ever really set out to be an utter fool. It just so happened that some, either through inexperience, willful ignorance, or just the misfortune of having had one or two too many brain cells knocked out of their heads sometimes – or all the time, in special cases – acted like absolute dumbasses.

This moment, as he sat silently amidst a group of should-be professionals as they debated the merits and dangers of allowing a potential student - who had gained a more than respectable seventy-five points in the practical exam - into the hero course just because the boy in question happened to be both an omega and quirkless, was definitely one of those times.

“It is far too dangerous!” All Might, the newest staff member, current number one hero and  number one idiot, repeated for the umpteenth time as Kan and Ishiyama, two men who Shouta had always thought were relatively intelligent, nodded along hesitantly.

Shouta barely resisted the urge to snort derisively. Of course it was dangerous; hero work was dangerous for everyone. The massive chunk he had seen missing from the number one’s side just that morning when All Might and all the dangers he posed to the school had been revealed to the faculty was testament to that. It didn’t matter how powerful or weak one’s quirk was – one wrong move, one moment of hesitation or a single mistake could end a hero’s life. Shouta didn’t see why the lack of a quirk would change that overly much. And as far as secondary sex went –

Well, Shouta himself was testament that hero work did not need to be solely constricted to betas and alphas.

“He got the points, though!” Nemuri, bless her and all her actually working brain cells, retorted back hotly, not for the first time. “Are we really going to deny him that because we are worried he might bruise a little too easy?”

“It isn’t a matter of just bruising and you know it.” Ishiyama responded, his voice irritatingly calm as though he was about to spout simple facts and not quirkist, sexist nonsense. “He’s at a distinct disadvantage to all the other prospective students with his lack of a quirk. Add on top of that the fact that he’s an omega and there’s a good chance we will have the entire public in an uproar for even thinking of endangering him by allowing him a spot in the hero course. He only earned sxi villain points, by far the least of all the other passing participants, so he’s not nearly as combat orientated as the other students.”

Excluding the fact that the child had won those six points by picking up a large piece of jagged metal from a downed robot, pinpointing the weakest points of three different robots of various strengths and slamming it into those spots to sever their control wires. Or the fact that he had done the exact same to the massive zero-pointer at the end of the exam in order to protect another examinee who had been trapped by fallen debris.

“Since when did we only focus on combat strength?” Nemuri shot back amidst soft murmurs of agreement from Ishiyama’s words. “If we are only worried about how many robots a kid can rip through, why have rescue points in the first place?”

“Rescuing is important, but a boy like him who can only rescue is a liability.” All Might responded resolutely, his two brain cells apparently only devoted to letting crap spew from his mouth.

“Oh really? If you think prioritizing rescue is such a fu-“

“While this is an undoubtedly interesting conversation,” Nezu, who had remained quiet ever since he had brought up the fate of the brat in question, neatly cut in before Nemuri could unleash the torrent of curses Shouta just knew was brimming on  her tongue. “I believe we have reached a point where anything after this would be unfortunately emotionally charged. Everyone has raised interesting points. There is no question that the child has earned enough points to secure his position  - he has the second highest score of every single participant in the practical and he was first of all the students in the written – but it is also true that if we admit him, he will be the student with the least amount of villain points in the history of the exam.” Nemuri scoffed angrily at that, a sentiment Shouta whole-heartedly agreed with, but Nezu continued on undeterred.

“With that being the case, it is more than doable to simply say he didn’t pass the practical. With so few villain points and the rescue points being more or less an unknown factor to all but those who passed the exam themselves, it would be very easy to simply fail the child and offer him a spot in one of the other courses instead.” Shouta stiffened at that. What a terrible waste of potential that would be, to shove the second highest scorer off into a different course just because of two things he had no control over.

He shifted, wishing not for the first time, that Hizashi wasn’t busy with escorting injured students to and from the nurse’s office post exam. Had the loudmouth been there, it would have been easier to make him cut into the conversation rather than Shouta having to do it himself.

“That seems more than fair!” All Might boomed, seemingly content with the prospect of destroying a child’s dream.  Quite a few teachers nodded while Nemuri’s face flushed with fury.

"We could do that,” Nezu continued after a soft hum, “and I’m certain many of you would sleep better at night feeling as though you have saved a child from an untimely death. However, I am reluctant to brush aside this student just because his inclusion will make others uncomfortable. While I understand and respect all of your hesitancies, we do have rescue points for a reason and this boy has earned more than any other student in the last ten years. Enough to get him to second place with minimal injuries. Does it really sit right with you all to deny him a place he fought for and won just because of his quirk status and his secondary sex?”

Nezu’s voice was calm and pleasant as ever, but that did nothing to hide away the accusation in his words. More than a few of the teachers shifted uncomfortably then as it hit a little too close to home; only All Might seemed wholly undeterred.

“It would be one thing, perhaps, if it was just a matter of one or the other.” The hero said, not quite bothering to choose his words carefully, “but the fact that the boy is both? He’ll be facing villains and foes with powerful quirks with nothing of his own to combat them and combined with the fact that omegas are –“ All Might cut off there, shooting a slightly panicked, guilty look at Shouta. As though he had just remembered exactly who was in the room with him.

Shouta supposed this was as good of time as any to finally join the argument; the anger he felt boiling under his skin would have erupted out sooner or later and at least with everyone’s eyes on him – it seemed they had all just remembered Shouta was there – he didn’t have to put any effort into getting their attention. He decided he’d let All Might stew a little first, though. “Go ahead, continue. Omegas are what?”

All Might seemed to flush a little. “Well, I just meant – that is to say…”

“That omegas are the weakest secondary sex? Naturally more gentle and docile? Suited to raise children but not protect them? Better left in the house than out in the field?” Shota’s voice was deceptively calm, nearly bored, but anyone with sense would be able to detect the threat laced within each word as he recited all the arguments that had been thrown at him through the years.

“Come on Aizawa, All  Might didn’t say any of  –“ there was Kan, jumping in with what he thought was a conciliatory manner. Too bad Shouta himself was far past conciliation.

“Didn’t he though?” Shouta cut in, uninterested in whatever nonsense was about to follow that. Kan was a decent teacher and a good hero, but Shouta had witnessed enough of his alpha posturing over the years to know where his opinions of omegas fell. Omegas were just as intelligent and capable of any other sex, except where it came to dangerous, physically-dominated professions. Except for exceptions, of course, like Shouta himself.

And Kan wondered why exactly Shouta rarely ever allowed the man into his classroom.

“Or maybe he just thought it. You all were thinking it right? Thought that his kid, despite proving himself not only capable of keeping up with the other prospective students but actually better and more prepared than 99% of them, is simply not as good because what? He doesn’t have explosions shooting out of his hands and he’s going to be able to pop out kids in a couple years?” A few of the others winced slightly at Shouta’s slightly crude words but he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, the only person in the room who was using enough brain function for their opinion to matter was Nemuri. Maybe the rat-stoat-bear-bastard too, but he was on thin ice.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, undoubtedly Hizashi announcing that the last of the injured students had been pecked and bandaged up and that he would be up soon to discuss the students. Good, he knew what kind of students Shota would fight to get away from Kan; he could take over the discussion for him.

Shouta stood up and turned slightly towards Nezu. He could see amusement glinting in the small, black eyes of the principal and fought to keep his face neutral. Of course, this had all been a game to him. There was no way he would have let such an interesting enigma go so easily; especially if it meant shaking things up around him.

“I don’t care who else gets in and I frankly don’t give a damn what anyone else in this room thinks about it either, Midoriya Izuku will be in my classroom once the semester starts.”

 He didn’t wait for Nezu to nod, nor did he wait for the murmurs that broke out at his proclamation to turn into another pointless argument. With one small nod of acknowledgment to Nemuri, who had a gleeful, almost sadistic grin on her face, he swept out of the room without another word.

Shouta truly believed that people didn’t set out to be complete idiots all the time, but he’d be damned if he didn’t also believe his coworkers made a valiant effort to do it anyway.

To waste all that potential just because a kid had some biological and genetic aspects he couldn’t control was simply illogical.