Chapter Text
Yori Saeki, known to some as the underground hero Filtra, stands just inside the entrance of Ground Beta. The crisp December air fills her lungs nearly to the point of burning as she waits. She suspects the students will be arriving soon with absolutely no idea of what they're walking into, which is exactly how she wants it. Nezu had informed her upon her arrival that Aizawa had expelled his entire first year class after a particularly reckless incident left him convinced that not a single one of them would ever learn to survive serious hero work, which she supposes makes her job easier than she'd anticipated. What was supposed to be a joint training of forty students now only consists of twenty. Half the students means half the work. She scoffs to herself as she rubs near the top of her prosthetic leg, hoping the friction will generate enough heat to make it a little more comfortable. She absolutely despises winter.
A blinking light at the gate alerts her to the incoming presence, and so she disappears into the shadows. She stifles a frustrated groan as all twenty students pass her without ever becoming aware of her presence. She'd thought she was going easy on them, after all, and they still don't know she's there. If this were real, at least five of them would already be temporarily incapacitated at best. As the students step into the target zone, she catches sight of a gentle glow and a mass of floating black hair on a nearby rooftop. It's time.
She lunges out from her hiding place, bo staff already sweeping several students off their feet. The rest scramble, attempting to use their quirks and becoming visibly upset when they don't work. Not a one reaches for any of the numerous possible weapons amongst them. The battle is over before Shota has to truly blink, with all twenty students laying on the ground and panting.
"I should've known a bunch of UA first years would be shown up by the budding heroes at Shiketsu. They at least had three people attempt to improvise a weapon." She clicks her tongue in disappointment and removes her helmet, biting back a grin as she slides her glasses on. About half of the students fail to hide their disgust and shock when they see the massive scarring running along the left side of her face and head. Even all these years later, a small part of her still cringes. She'll never get used to that, not really.
Right, she's got a job to do. "I've got my work cut out for me today. You should've warned me, Mr. Aizawa." She speaks without looking in his direction, and several of the keener students begin looking around.
"The Principal did." His voice rings down from the roof, and all eyes snap to him. She doesn't manage to hide her amused smile this time as she watches the students' faces travel from confusion, to understanding, then finally to disappointment as they realize what they'd obviously missed.
"No matter." She stares down each and every student as she speaks. Some shrink a little under her gaze, but most straighten in posture, literally rising to the challenge as she issues it. "You sorry lot need to be more prepared. At least a few of you should have noticed my presence. However, that is a matter for another day. One that your homeroom and heroics instructors will handle. My code name is Filtra, but you may call me Ms. Saeki for today. I am here to provide you with special training on improvised weaponry."
She waits for the chorus of chatter to die away as the students exchange excited or inquisitive glances with one another. Aizawa saunters over, having climbed down from his perch with ease while she was speaking. He keeps an eye on her, following her lead. They've done this training together once before, but today is different. Today, Nezu has asked her to join UA's faculty full time in the coming academic year. She can tell simply by the way he's looking at her, a subtle smirk playing at his lips, that Aizawa already knows.
She opens her mouth to speak, and all of the chatter instantly ceases. The kids are hanging off her every word. "Look around you. There is an abundance of potential weapons here, including some items that I selected specifically because of their similarity to your support items. Yet, none of you thought to reach for one. This is something to condemn you for, but also something to applaud you on." She slides her bo staff back into its place on her back and begins walking the area around the students, reaching for a sturdy broom propped against the wall of a simulated apartment building. As she picks it up, she quickly assesses the weight and positions it in her grasp as she would her staff. "Rule number one: never, ever grab a weapon that you are unwilling to use. The moment it is in your hand, while you are unprepared to use it, you will hesitate, and that will be your downfall."
She glances to Aizawa, giving him a subtle nod, and he moves to attack her instantly. She counters his attack with a swipe at the ankle. He sees it coming just a moment too late, and so he's not out of range by the time her broom comes in sharp contact with his right ankle. He reaches for a broken bottle, but intentionally hesitates, and she sweeps his feet out from under him. She quickly drops the broom, signaling for the fighting to stop, and he relaxes instantly. She reaches out, and he grasps her right arm just above the wrist. As she helps him up, she says "Mr. Aizawa was unwilling to use the broken bottle to cut me, as he did not want to risk creating serious or potentially deadly injuries. However, I chose a weapon that I felt confident in using. Improvised weapons that are similar to your combat style can be quite effective, as you are simply adjusting for the differences in weight and strength."
She pulls the broom off the ground and snaps it over her knee, letting the pieces clatter to the ground. "You will not always be so lucky. Because of this, you need to know how to use as many different potential weapons as possible. You should always be assessing your surroundings, making note of the possible uses of the items surrounding you. Something as simple as a bag, keys, or a cup of hot coffee can make a major difference in the outcome of a fight."
A hand goes up, and before the student even opens his mouth, she knows what he's going to ask. Every school has one...
"Ms. Saeki, I do not intend to offend, but why do we need to know this? We're all training to use our quirks to the maximum effectiveness in combat."
"And yet, there are times when that will fail you, too. As it did when I attacked you at the beginning of this training session." The student goes red in the face, embarrassed that he didn't make the connection, but she doesn't chastise him for it. "I understand that many of you are very powerful quirk users already, and that will carry you far. However, what will you do when you come up against a villain whose quirk is incompatible with yours? Will you throw yourself into a losing battle with nothing but your fists and wit to aid you? Will you freeze? Or will you stand up and fight for yourself?"
"You mean fighting quirkless." Another student adds.
She turns to face the girl, her expression schooled into a cold neutrality as she says "Many heroes fight quirkless because we must. Were you aware of any quirk usage on my part when I took you down?" The students all shake their heads, some retreating to memory to reevaluate the situation that faced them when they entered the training grounds. "For many such as Mr. Aizawa and myself, our quirks act more as a method of support or leveling the playing field than as a primary method of combat. Many heroes find themselves in similar circumstances. Yet, heroes like us should not be the only heroes skilled in quirkless combat. Too many disasters or villain attacks take far too much time to resolve because heroes who overrely on their quirks don't know how to handle it when their quirk is essentially nullified."
Her mind returns briefly to a situation about nine months prior in which she'd been called to Musutafu to do a similar training with other professional heroes, but only after several local heroes had essentially become bystanders while a sludge villain attacked a child. Even now, her blood boils at the memory. At the pathetic excuses they'd spouted. She'll be damned if she's going to let this problem fester. The next generation will be better than them in every way. She'll make sure of it.
She watches the students' expressions cycle between somberness and determination, giving a brief pause for them to digest the information before saying "Today, I will train you to turn the most commonly available items into a weapon. I will teach you to examine your surroundings closely and categorize the objects in your immediate vicinity so that upon the start of combat you are prepared to make full use of your surroundings. I will also teach you to understand the full range of possibilities and consequences for these weapons. It will be a long and hard day. Your other classes have been cancelled so that we may spend all day here. Any questions?"
As the students shake their heads and lean in closer, ready to start, she smirks. "Good, then let's begin."