Character Sheet: Name = Gawain. Alias = Sun Hero. Age = 27. Appearance = Gawain takes an appearance of a tall young man with wavy sun-kissed blond hair and aqua eyes with long eyelashes, his body is tall lean-muscled with a pretty face. Personality = He earnestly performs all sorts of work. Even if that is, by any chance, debt collecting. Despite his serious character, he has no gloomy aspects and interacts with anyone in a sincere and polite fashion. While he may get enraged, since he never harbors negative emotions such as jealousy and malice, his attitude is refreshing no matter what kind of battlefield. For Gawain to have never been envied, despite being blessed with talent and pedigree, was probably due his own good character and the natural airheadness to think of it as a matter of course, without ever being boastful. A loyal Hero, his faithfulness to the Humanity was like iron. His only flaw is that he is somewhat of a skirt-chaser. Quirk = Flames of Sun. Quirk Explanation = He can summon and shape flames that can comparable to Sun in terms of temperature. Role = Teacher at U.A.. Affiliation = U.A.. Timeline & Starting Location = U.A. entrance exam.
Prologue: The Sun Hero's Crucible
The morning sun, still climbing in the crisp spring sky, bathed the sprawling, ultra-modern campus of U.A. High School in golden light. It glinted off the towering H-shaped main building and shimmered on the meticulously maintained grounds. Today was not just any day; it was the crucible, the first fiery test for hundreds of aspiring heroes – the U.A. Entrance Exam.
Standing on a high observation balcony integrated into the main building, overlooking the simulated city district where the practical exam would soon commence, Gawain took a slow, deliberate breath. The light seemed to cling to him, highlighting the sun-kissed waves of his blond hair and deepening the calm aqua of his eyes. His U.A. teacher's uniform – a sharp, dark blazer and trousers – was worn with an unconscious elegance that matched his lean, athletic frame and undeniably pretty features. At 27, he carried the poise of experience, yet his expression held the focused earnestness of a man about to perform a vital, sacred duty.
"Final systems check complete, Gawain-sensei," chirped a voice from the console beside him. Power Loader, his head encased in his signature excavator-like helmet, tapped a screen displaying complex schematics of the exam zone. "Bots are primed, cameras active. We're green across the board."
"Excellent work, Power Loader-san," Gawain replied, his voice a warm, resonant baritone that carried sincerity effortlessly. He offered a small, polite bow. "Your diligence ensures a fair and comprehensive assessment for every examinee. Truly commendable."
Power Loader shuffled slightly, a little flustered by the earnest praise. "Ah, well, just doing my job. You're the one overseeing the big picture today."
"Only a facet of it," Gawain corrected gently, turning his gaze back to the silent cityscape below. "Each role, from maintenance to proctoring, is integral. Without your expertise, the crucible would lack its necessary structure."
Before Power Loader could formulate another humble reply, the balcony doors hissed open. Midnight sauntered out, her trademark dominatrix-inspired hero costume contrasting sharply with Gawain's formal teacher attire. A knowing smile played on her lips as she observed Gawain's profile against the morning light.
"My, my, Gawain-kun," she purred, leaning casually against the railing beside him. "Looking particularly radiant this morning. Ready to scorch some expectations?" Her gaze swept appreciatively over him, lingering perhaps a fraction longer than strictly professional. "That uniform really does suit your... assets."
Gawain turned to her, his expression utterly sincere, devoid of any trace of awkwardness or boastfulness. "Midnight-sensei. Good morning. Your presence is always... invigorating." He acknowledged the compliment without a flicker of arrogance, his aqua eyes meeting hers directly. "And yes, I am prepared. Today is about igniting potential, not scorching dreams. Though," he added with a touch of his natural, airheaded honesty, "I suppose the examinees might feel a metaphorical heat regardless." He blinked, seemingly unaware of the slight double entendre Midnight might infer.
Midnight chuckled, a low, rich sound. "Always so refreshingly earnest, even when inadvertently flirting. It's one of your charms." She nudged him playfully. "Try not to distract all the promising young ladies with that heroic profile and sunny disposition, hm? We need them focused on the bots."
Gawain tilted his head, genuinely perplexed for a second. "Distract? My intention is solely to observe and evaluate their heroic capabilities objectively, Midnight-sensei. Though," he conceded, a flicker of warmth in his eyes that was purely appreciative, "if a candidate demonstrates exceptional spirit or grace under pressure, it would be remiss not to acknowledge it as part of their overall potential. Heroism encompasses many admirable qualities, after all."
Power Loader coughed, trying to hide a grin behind his helmet. Midnight just shook her head, amused. Gawain's skirt-chasing tendencies were legendary among the staff – a harmless, almost innocent appreciation of beauty and spirit, entirely devoid of malice or objectification. He simply admired admirable qualities, and feminine grace often fell squarely into that category for him. He never boasted, never pressured, and his sincerity made it difficult for anyone to take genuine offense.
A small holographic projection flickered to life beside them, resolving into the diminutive, bearlike form of Principal Nezu, sipping tea from a tiny cup. "Good morning, esteemed colleagues! The gates are opening. Examinees are commencing entry into their designated zones." His beady eyes sparkled with intelligence. "Gawain-sensei, your primary observation focus will be Battle Centers B and C. Pay particular attention to raw power application and control, as well as decisive action under pressure. And... perhaps keep an eye out for any unusual quirks that might require... delicate handling." Nezu's gaze held a knowing glint. He understood Gawain's unique qualifications perfectly.
"Understood, Principal Nezu," Gawain affirmed, his posture straightening with a soldier's readiness. "The Flames of Sun stand ready to intervene should any scenario exceed the safety parameters." As he spoke, a subtle shift occurred. The air around Gawain's right hand wavered, like heat haze off desert asphalt. Then, with a silent whoomph, a small, perfectly controlled orb of plasma ignited just above his palm. It wasn't large, barely the size of a golf ball, but its existence was profound. The light it emitted wasn't just bright; it was the fierce, actinic white-gold of a stellar core. The temperature radiating from it instantly spiked the air on the balcony by several degrees. Power Loader instinctively leaned back, his helmet's systems likely flashing heat warnings. Midnight felt a prickle on her skin, a visceral reminder of the power contained within that deceptively pretty package.
This was Flames of Sun. Not mere fire, but the raw, simulated fury of a star. Capable of melting steel vault doors in seconds, vaporizing debris, or incinerating threats with terrifying efficiency. Gawain could shape it – form shields, lances, wide-area bursts, or intensely focused beams. Its heat was unparalleled, its light blinding. Yet, held in Gawain's steady hand, it was as docile as a candle flame, a testament to his immense control and the iron discipline underpinning his pleasant demeanor. He allowed the miniature sun to pulse gently for a moment, its light reflecting in his serious aqua eyes, before willing it to vanish as silently as it appeared. The sudden absence of its heat was almost as jarring as its presence.
"Control remains impeccable, Gawain-sensei," Nezu observed, unfazed. "A reassuring constant."
"Thank you, Principal," Gawain replied, flexing his fingers slightly. "The quirk is a responsibility I bear with the utmost gravity. Its power exists solely to protect and nurture the future." His voice held no arrogance, only the deep, unwavering conviction of his loyalty – not just to U.A., but to the ideal of heroism and the safety of humanity itself. It was a faithfulness forged like iron, unyielding and absolute.
Below, the distant sounds of the examinees entering the battle centers began to filter up – excited chatter, nervous mutters, the clang of gates closing. Screens around the balcony flickered to life, displaying multiple angles from within the concrete canyons of the fake cities.
"Places, everyone," Nezu chirped. "The test begins in five minutes. Let the crucible commence! Remember, we seek not just power, but the hearts of heroes!"
Gawain moved to his designated console, his gaze fixed intently on the screens showing Battle Centers B and C. The earnestness was back in full force, replacing the momentary intensity summoned by his quirk. His long eyelashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks as he leaned forward, aqua eyes scanning the feeds, already assessing, cataloging.
He saw clusters of nervous teenagers, some stretching, others psyching themselves up. He saw a burly boy with engines in his legs revving impatiently. He saw a petite girl with vines for hair looking determined. He saw a frantic boy with green hair muttering to himself, looking utterly out of his depth. Each one represented a spark of potential.
'Potential,' Gawain thought, his mind clear of envy or judgment. 'Each flame unique. Some may flicker weakly today, others might roar unexpectedly. My duty is to see them truly, to measure not just the heat they generate, but the fuel that feeds it – their spirit, their resolve, their compassion.'
He remembered his own entrance exam years ago, the pressure, the exhilaration. He'd been blessed – blessed with a powerful quirk, blessed with supportive mentors, blessed with an innate understanding of his own capabilities that bordered on airheadedness. He'd never understood why others might envy him; his advantages simply were, tools to be used in service. Seeing these young hopefuls now, he felt only a profound sense of responsibility to ensure the crucible tested them fairly, to help U.A. find those whose flames could one day light the way for others.
Midnight took her position nearby, watching the screens with a more predatory interest. "Look at that one," she pointed to a screen showing a girl creating a floating barrier of light. "Graceful. And quite the figure already."
Gawain followed her gaze. "Indeed. A potent defensive quirk, seemingly light-based. Her application appears precise, but the true test will be under sustained pressure. And her form is... efficient," he added, the appreciation purely aesthetic and observational. "She moves with commendable poise."
Midnight smirked. "Always the gentleman, Gawain-kun."
A klaxon blared, harsh and sudden, echoing across the fake cities and through the observation deck speakers. On the screens, the previously inert faux-villain robots hummed to life, red sensors glowing.
"THE PRACTICAL EXAM... HAS BEGUN!" Nezu's amplified voice boomed across the battlegrounds.
Chaos erupted below. Screams, shouts, the crashing sounds of quirks impacting metal, the whine of robot limbs. Battle Centers B and C became maelstroms of adolescent power and panic.
Gawain's focus became laser-sharp. His eyes darted across the screens, missing nothing. He saw the engine-legged boy (Tensei Iida's brother, his file recalled instantly) blur into motion, shattering robots with powerful kicks. Efficient, direct. He saw the vine-haired girl (Shiozaki, Ibara) immobilize bots with rapid growth, a defensive powerhouse. He saw the green-haired boy (Midoriya, Izuku – quirkless registration?) flailing desperately, dodging rather than attacking, a look of terrified determination on his face. A spark of concern flickered in Gawain's chest. Heart was evident, but power...?
Then, on Screen C-7, a massive three-pointer robot loomed over a girl trapped under rubble, its weapon arm powering up. The girl froze, eyes wide with terror.
Gawain's hand twitched. A tiny, superheated spark, invisible to the cameras but sending a wave of heat across the console, danced at his fingertip. His body tensed, ready to teleport, to intervene, to unleash a fraction of the sun's fury to save a life. It was instinct, the iron faithfulness to humanity screaming to act.
But he held. U.A.'s protocols were strict. Rescue was part of the test, yes, but so was self-reliance and peer intervention. Unless imminent, irreversible harm was certain, the teachers observed. His jaw clenched, knuckles white on the console edge, the pleasant air momentarily replaced by the focused intensity of a soldier on overwatch.
Suddenly, a blur of green. The frantic boy, Midoriya, moving with impossible speed fueled by pure desperation. He reached the trapped girl, planted his feet, and... swung a fist.
The screen flared white with feedback for a split second from the shockwave. When it cleared, the three-pointer was a shattered ruin, and Midoriya lay crumpled, his arm a mangled mess, but the girl was safe.
Gawain let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The spark at his finger vanished. The heat dissipated. Relief washed over him, followed by profound respect. "Remarkable," he murmured, his voice thick with genuine awe. "Not the quirk... but the spirit. The self-sacrifice." He quickly made a note on his tablet: 'Midoriya, Izuku. Quirk: Extreme Power (Self-Damaging?). Spirit: Exceptional. Sacrificial Instinct: High. Requires immediate medical attention post-exam.'
He looked back at the screen showing the injured boy. The earnestness in Gawain's eyes was now mixed with a teacher's burgeoning interest. This was why they did this. To find the sparks that could become beacons, no matter how unlikely their origin.
The exam raged on, a symphony of destruction and burgeoning heroism. Gawain watched, analyzed, and recorded, his Flames of Sun a dormant but ever-present promise of protection beneath his calm exterior. The Sun Hero had found his place not on the front lines today, but in the observation deck, meticulously tending the garden of the next generation's hopes, his loyalty to their future burning as brightly and steadily as the star he commanded. The crucible was hot, and within its fires, the heroes of tomorrow were being forged. Gawain, the earnest, powerful, slightly skirt-chasing Sun Hero, wouldn't miss a single spark.