Work Text:
When Raven founded Syndicate Academy, she never expected it to be such a tremendous success. New Students were practically pouring in every day. She thought long and hard about whether it was her irresistibly charming charisma or the masterfully crafted poems she had attached to the flyers advertising her school that caused this. In the end, she came to the conclusion that her reputation as West District’s most renowned and reliable journalist had preceded her. That the true culprit was the ever so mysterious leader of “The Homeless” would have never, even in her wildest dreams, crossed the woman's mind.
The subject Raven’s students loved the most was History. She had written a wide array of textbooks in preparation for opening this school, but the children's ravenous curiosity seemed to never be satisfied. They kept asking her questions, and everytime she taught them how to spell a new word, some observant kid would find a passage in her books using that word and proudly read it out to her. Raven was feeling ecstatic about how quickly they were making progress. Maybe some of them were even worthy enough to read some of her simpler poems? Even as she got carried away by the unexpected joy of teaching, the devoted poet never forgot her true reason for founding this school: To immortalize her works for the centuries to come.
“Miss Raven, why is it written so weirdly?”
“Miss Raven, are these swirly lines supposed to be letters?”
“Miss Raven, what does Equanimity mean?”
Hmph, it seems her students still have a lot to learn about art.
As the poet observed them further, she grew more and more fond of them. Their resilience enchanted Raven: It was the norm for children in Syndicate to be exposed to dangers at all times, but they were able to keep hope in their hearts. When they were sitting in her classroom, it was almost like they were ordinary children, like they never witnessed the worst this world had to offer with their own two eyes. Like a little kid who had been told stories of a guardian angel by their parents, their eyes told a story of safety, comfort and companionship instead of the unbridled fear and paranoia Raven was used to seeing. It was so remarkable, each of them deserved to have their life immortalized with ink.
And they would be indeed. She flipped open a page of her precious notebook and immediately began writing. Such an impeccable inspiration didn't come often, even for a creative genius like her:
Oh, my dear Bill
As soon as you picked up that quill
For the first time and many times to come
Of my students, I see promise in some
But none compare to you
May your future be as the words that flew
Filled with the love and the joy only those born in the shadow will ever know
Raven continued writing well into the night, until the already scarce empty pages of her notebook were crammed full with dramatically swerved letters and she ran out of ink. She carefully put away her notebook into the bottom of a drawer. "I hope you’ll appreciate it when you're ready."
Day by day after the school's opening ceremony- unceremoniously only attended by Raven herself- new kids, most of them not even 16 years old, would show up in her classroom, bringing their friends with them. None of them looked familiar to the poet, so she assumed none came from Drifter Camp and they were living on the streets of Syndicate, like so many children in West District. This made her wonder how they had found their way to the small building in the outskirts of Drifter Camp, but none of her students gave her an answer when she asked them about it, frantically trying to think of some explanation. Seeing how determined they were to keep their little secret, even though the tiny ears of the bad liars among them flashed red when she approached them, the woman decided to leave it at that.
Though she never regretted this decision, doubts started creeping up when she started noticing things move in her classroom. Books were disappearing almost every day, and though they were mysteriously returned shortly after every time, this wasn't the only cause of concern: After weeks of these occurrences, Raven was sure she couldn't just be imagining this. The shadows in her classroom were moving. This called for an investigation, and as an experienced journalist, who was better suited for the job then her?
After carefully observing for a day, the woman noticed a few things: The shadows weren't moving erratically, they had a clear goal: Observing someone in this class. To do this, the little creatures tried their best to avoid detection, but they had seemingly gotten more careless as time went on. They didn't seem hostile, but it was a mystery why something that was likely a sinner's power, maybe A- or S-Rank, decided to show up in the humble little school of a Syndicate poet. Was one of her students a sinner? No, they wouldn't need to steal books they could access at any time if that was the case. As she flipped through some old newspapers she had collected in her office, something caught her attention: “The Homeless” A small organization in Syndicate made up exclusively of children that was able to gain power through their “Guardian Angel”. It was very likely some of her students were part of this group, so Raven continued searching the piles made up of stacked paper. A lot of “infos” about the guardian of “The Homeless” were obviously just urban legends, but reading all those horror stories about a little girl that was able to defeat gang leaders without even moving an inch, Raven wondered whether she had accidentally stepped into the territory of “The Homeless” by teaching so many syndicate kids at her school. Regardless if this theory of hers was true or not, the journalist wasn't about to let someone that interesting like the leader of the “The Homeless” get away.
The next day, Raven formulated a plan to make this person reveal herself. Ideally, she'd like for her to become one of her students as well, as it was clear she wanted to learn badly. A teacher couldn't just ignore a curious kid. The kid was still naive, not even considering the possibility that someone might have noticed her, so cornering her wouldn't be difficult, but earning her trust would be. But that was a problem for tomorrow's Raven, and she was confident her charisma would charm even the most ruthless kid.
After all of her students had left today's class, Raven carefully observed the walls for any moving shadows, and, as soon as she spotted one, shouted in to the empty room:
“Did you really think I didn't notice you, little one?”
Silence. Not a single shadow was moving anymore.
“I’m honoured, honestly. I’m such a good teacher that the leader of “The Homeless” entrusted her precious friends to me.”
It seems the shadow gave up any hope of escaping after that statement. Trapped by the unexpected information that the subject of her observations had acquired, she revealed herself.
As the blue-haired girl stepped out of the shadows into her classroom, the first thing that caught Raven’s eye was her hoodie: It was ridiculously oversized, you could barely see her tiny hands peeking out underneath the sleeves. Raven thought this was a shame, as her nails were surprisingly well kept for a kid who had lived in Syndicate her whole life, the light blue nail polish matched the gradient on her hoodie. Oh well, thought the poet, Kids these days always have a peculiar fashion sense, don't they? Her previous students were proof of that, as quite a few of them had adopted a similar style of clothing, apparently out of admiration for their little “guardian”. This little kid definitely wasn't anywhere near as terrifying as some urban legends described her as.
“So you say you're a teacher?”, the girl asked harshly.
“The best one in all of West District, actually. What’s your name, little-” Before Raven could finish that question, her conversation partner interrupted her.
“The only one. That's the only reason I brought “The Homeless” here in the first place. Don't think too highly of yourself.”
“Alright, Alright, will you tell me your name this time? It would be terrible not to know my students name.”, Raven teased.
At the assumption that the she is already that woman's student, the girl continued her silence, staring at her teacher
“My future faaavourite student.” The poet enunciated “favourite” dramatically, quite enjoying how easy to tease the one who had stalked her for weeks is.
“Stop assuming I want to attend this stupid school. The only reason I came here is because I don't trust you, and you think I would actually choose to spend time with an adult like you? Ridiculous.”
Those words would be quite hurtful coming from someone less cute, but Raven still had a trump card: “Then why were you getting your little friends to steal books for you? It's understandable to be curious. Knowledge is power, after all, and I know you need all the power you can get to protect them. You can't get this kind of power anywhere else in Syndicate.”
Crache lost her composure after the mention of something she didn't expect her teacher to know.
As shock spread all over her face, Raven ceased the opportunity: “Honestly, did you really expect to get away with stealing school property? Even a softie like me can't ignore that.”
The accusation was more playful than anything, the audacity of that quickly returning the blue-haired girl to her usual, cold self as she said with a hint of disgust: “Suit yourself. If you want me to attend so badly, I might as well accept so you stop pestering me.”
Raven started laughing: “I’m so glad you didn't reject me, I don't think my poor heart would have been able to handle such a cute kid hating me.”
“Are you always this annoying or do you have something against me?”
“I love all my students equally! Now, will you finally tell me your name?”
“My name is… Crache.”
Breaking news: Infamous leader of “The Homeless'' attends Syndicate Academy! Troublemaker who skips class and picks fights? Or misunderstood hero of all of Syndicate's children? Find out all about the mysterious urban legend in this special edition written by the legendary journalist Raven herself!
As Raye finished typing the last letters of a newspaper that was not meant for the public eye, she felt a nostalgic smile make its way onto her face, reminiscing of better times.