The morning sun, struggling to penetrate the perpetual urban haze of the Japanese city, cast pale yellow streaks across the linoleum floor of a small, rundown apartment kitchen.
Inside, the air was thick with the comforting, rich aroma of frying eggs and sizzling bacon.
Standing by the stove was a handsome young man, Emiya Shirou, who moved with a practiced, almost economical grace, flipping an omelette with a casual flick of his wrist.
His auburn hair was slightly tousled, catching the light in warm tones, and his silver eyes—eyes that had witnessed countless battles across the globe—were currently focused on the mundane task of breakfast preparation.
To the vast majority of the world, he was known by his hero name, Muramasa, The Blacksmith Hero.
In Europe, he was more than a Pro; he was their Symbol of Heroism, their undisputed Number 1 Hero. The Hero whom all other Hero aspired to be.
Europe was, in fact, the only continent on the planet where All Might was not universally recognized as the number one hero, a testament solely to Emiya Shirou's colossal reputation and operational success.
Just then, scraping sound drew his attention as a door creaked open, and a short, wizened figure emerged, rubbing the sleep from his face with a wrinkled hand and letting out a loud, shuddering yawn.
Shirou smiled, his expression softening instantly as he turned from the stove, spatula in hand.
"Morning, Old Man," he greeted warmly. "I'm making something simple today. Hope you don't mind bacon and eggs."
The old man, Torino Sorahiko—better known to the professional world as the retired Pro Hero Gran Torino—merely nodded curtly, already focused on his morning ritual of preparing his coffee.
Despite the apartment's shabby appearance, the kitchen counter held a professional-grade espresso machine.
He ambled over to it, his gait still surprisingly spry, and began the meticulous process of brewing his potent cup of coffee.
Gran Torino was a living legend, though he preferred obscurity as few knew that he was the mentor who had painstakingly trained the world's undisputed number one hero, All Might.
Fewer still knew the deeply personal connection he had to the young man cooking his breakfast.
You see, after Shirou's adopted father had passed away more than ten years ago, Gran Torino had become his informal guardian, a grumpy, highly critical, but undeniably loyal anchor in his life.
Well, there was also that certain tigress who was his legal guardian before he met Gran Torino.
Sorahiko took a long, restorative sip of the freshly brewed, scalding black coffee. He savored the bitterness for a moment before turning his sharp gaze onto Shirou.
"So, brat," Sorahiko began, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "How's life been treating the world's self-proclaimed peacekeeper? Still saving the ungrateful masses, are we?"
Shirou chuckled, placing the perfectly golden omelet onto a plate. "The usual, Old Man. Everything's the same as ever, going around the world, saving people, stopping wars, fighting villains, trying to minimize the collateral damage. You know, pretty much my everyday life."
He slid the plate onto the small, worn dining table.
Sorahiko's expression remained unimpressed as he placed his mug down with a clink. "Well, I heard different, you reckless idiot. I heard you almost got vaporized trying to play the martyr in Somalia."
Shirou's easy demeanor faltered slightly, a wry smile appearing on his face as he sighed, leaning against the counter.
"That's… accurate." He elaborated, his tone becoming more serious. "There was a major conflict brewing back there, a war against a large pirate organization, and I went there to evacuate refugees and de-escalate the fighting. But some utter fool—a private military contractor, we found out—actually launched a tactical missile at one of the main coastal towns, intending to wipe out a key pirate base, along with every single innocent person still inside."
"And you decided to stop it," Sorahiko stated, not as a question, but as a summary of his charge's predictable behavior.
After all, just like All Might, Emiya Shirou cannot not save people, even if it means bringing harm to themselves.
In that regard, Emiya Shirou was even more extreme than All Might.
"Well, it was already too late to stop the launch," Shirou replied, running a hand through his hair. "The only thing I could do was interpose myself, block the blast, and minimize the damage radius. I projected every piece of defensive armament I could conceptualize, but…"
He paused, a flicker of pain crossing his silver eyes. "It left me gravely injured. Half-dead, as you put it. Thankfully, the Grand Order's reinforcement team, Rin, specifically, arrived right after the impact. They stabilized me and then quickly secured the area, stopping the war before it could truly spiral out."
Sorahiko simply hummed, taking another measured sip of his coffee. The hum was less a judgment and more an acknowledgment of the familiar stupidity of the world and the familiar heroism of the man before him.
"So, your girls decided to shipped you back to Japan to recuperate, then?"
Shirou smiled a little wryly, picking up his own fork. "Rin and the others were absolutely furious with my 'unnecessary recklessness.' They cited the need for a 'profound period of passive psychological decompression' and sent me back here to cool my head and, as they put it, 'remember that I am a human being, not a self-repairing shield.'"
Sorahiko chuckled, his voice like a dry, rusty sound. "Sounds like they all have their hands full from your recklessness. Good. But did you at least stop in Fuyuki first?"
Shirou nodded. "I did. I stayed with Sakura and Rider for three days. Sakura's cooking skill have already surpassed mine, which was a shocker. But I guess it's to be expected since I have spent most of time time in the battlefield."
"And how is Taiga?"Sorahiko asked, the last remnants of amusement softening his eyes.
Fujimura Taiga was Sorahiko's granddaughter, a figure of profound importance in both men's lives.
Years ago, while Sorahiko and his closest friend, which was All Might's predecessor, were fighting a devastating, long-running criminal mastermind, Sorahiko had evacuated his daughter and son-in-law to safety.
Tragically, they had still been caught in a related attack and killed, which completely devastated him.
But in that same tragedy, Shirou's adopted father had rescued young Taiga, which Sorahiko couldn't be more grateful for.
And finally, five years ago, after the final defeat of their nemesis, Sorahiko had finally reunited with his granddaughter and, learning that Taiga had essentially become Shirou's legal guardian after his father's death, had insisted that both move in with him.
Shirou took a bite of bacon.
"Taiga-nee is doing just fine. She's happy teaching, same as always. Although," he grinned, a familiar spark of teasing returning, "she spent an entire evening complaining that she still hasn't managed to find a boyfriend that can handle her 'energetic personality,' as she calls it."
Sorahiko snorted loudly, shaking his head and stirring his coffee. "Her energetic personality? With that fiery temperament of hers, it would take a miracle worker to find a man who can handle that tiger. She scares off every applicant within a five-mile radius."
He looked at Shirou with a challenging glint. "You should be thankful you're basically family. Now, eat your breakfast. And tell me what ridiculous scheme brought you to offer an internship to a random U.A. student."
Shirou shrugged, "There's nothing much to say. I saw that her Quirk was similar to mine, and how she sucks at using it, and I thought of teaching her a thing or two."
"Similar?" Sorahiko snorted, "There are no Quirks like yours."
Shirou's quirk, "Tracing", basically allows how him to analyse the structure of anything and recreate them using his lipids.
Of course, he couldn't create anything complicated since he isn't really that smart, and he only used it to create basic item.
But Shirou had trained this Quirk to perfection that he is even able to recreate Quirks that he has analysed.
Unfortunately, using those Quirks felt like a lava was flowing through his veins, the pain was so immese that the first time he tried it, he passed out.
Fortunately, he was able to create a solution.
By creating weapons, and tracing that quirk into said weapon, basically giving him a Quirk-infused weapon he named Noble Phantasm.
"Didn't you also sent an invitation to All Might's successor?"
Sorahiko cringed, remembering the way that brat used the Quirk. Honestly, it was painful to watch, he almost cried seeing how terrible that kid uses his Quirk.
He couldn't stand it that he decided to come out of retirement to teach that brat how to properly handle that Quirk.
"That All Might's only redeeming quality is his physique. He absolutely cannot teach. Seeing that quirk being used like that hurts my soul." He turned towards Shirou, "I still stand by what I said; you should've accepted that Quirk. You are far more suited to weild it."
Shirou shook his head, "I wanted to accept it as well, but Rin and the others wouldn't let me. They literally tied me up and scolded All Might for even offering the Quirk to me."
Sorahiko chuckled at that old memory.
"Besides, isn't it fine now? After all..." Shirou raised his arm, blue vein-like lines glowed on his arm, before a static blue electricity coiled around it.
"I am also recognised by One For All."