Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Three Houses, all rights to the owners.

"Combat awareness." Byleth says firmly. "It's paramount over any other skill. It doesn't matter how tough you are, or how fast you are, or how many enemies you can take on at once. There is a situation where you can get killed, and it will happen if you're not actively avoiding it. Good reflexes are particular important for this."

Without even looking down, he grabs something from under his desk and chucks it at Edelgard. The girl's arm comes up with lighting speed to block the projectile, causing it to slap onto her arm and fall harmlessly to the floor. It's a wet sponge, and it already soaked through Edelgard's sleeve in the one second it had contact with her.

"That is an example of good reflexes." Byleth says calmly, as if chucking something at a student without warning is perfectly normal behavior. "Bad reflexes, however..."

He chucks another sponge. This one slaps a sleeping Linhardt in the face with quite a bit of force, and both soaks his face and shirt and sends him toppling backwards out of his seat.

"...look like that." The man says while casually wiping his hands on the curtains. Ferdinand is visibly aghast at seeing his teacher show such disregard to their very expensive accommodations. "You're dead by the way Linhardt."

"Duly noted." The boy grumbles as he picks himself up off the floor. His carefully kept hair is wet and in slight disarray. He picks at his wet shirt, grimacing. "Did it have to be wet?"

"Dry sponges suffer too much wind resistance. Can't throw them very far, or very fast. I'm open to alternatives." Byleth replies; apparently missing the rhetorical nature of the question. "So, in short. Be like Edelgard. Edelgard is alive. Linhardt is not."

Someone less familiar with Byleth might assume that's a snide comment about Linhardt wasting his life away not contributing anything to the world, but of course it's not. Byleth doesn't have that deep a sense of sarcasm… or any sense of sarcasm for that matter.

"Professor…" Hubert says with a slight sneer. "I'll thank you not to throw things at the heir to the throne of the Adrestian Empire."

"Then hold off your thanks, because I just did that." Byleth says.

"Yes, that's- ugh…" The boy sighs deeply. "Don't do that."

"Okay." Byleth picks up a sponge and chucks it Hubert. The boy barely manages to bat it aside and stop the sponge from soaking his notebook. "Everyone, be like Hubert. Not Linhardt. Pretend Edelgard isn't here."

While Hubert glares at their teacher, Edelgard glances at the hourglass sitting on Byleth's desk. It's not even halfway done.

"Still forty more minutes of this. Gods preserve us…"

###

"Professor…" Ferdinand sighs.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Catching fish."

"Generally, one uses a pole to catch fish."

"Generally." Byleth agrees.

"Professor."

"Yes?"

"It it most uncouth for you to use a sharpened stick to catch fish."

"I see." He responds neutrally, and goes back to looking for fish.

"I don't think you do see."

"How not?"

"Professor, you are a member of the church of Seiros. You represent the order in a sense, and therefore it paints a poor image of them for you to be attempting to stab fish in a lake with a sharp branch. At the very least you could use a spear."

"Too heavy." Byleth mutters. He's still not looking at Ferdinand, and is totally focused on the water. "This is just right. Can hold it for a long time, but not too frail. Won't snap too easy."

"Do you really care so little for the image of the church?" Ferdinand snaps. His irritation is getting the best of him now. He can't stand someone with so little care for their position. Even Caspar, with his unphilosophical and impulsive approach to life, upholds the core ideals of being a noble. Byleth seems to pay no mind to what's expected of him.

"Should I?"

"Yes! You're a part of them now!"

"Oh." He blinks. "Do they not like fish?"

"Fish- Forget about the fish! It's the fact that you're using a stick! You look like a barbarian."

"I'm a mercenary."

"You're a teacher, hired by the church. Perhaps you should start acting like it."

"I do."

"Excuse me?" Ferdinand says, not believing what he just heard. "And how do you figure that?"

"A fisher is someone who fishes, just as a teacher is someone who teaches." Byleth says simply. "How I act otherwise has nothing to do with it."

"I- but-" Ferdinand takes a moment to collect himself. He didn't expect this talk to be such an exercise in patience. "Yes, you are technically correct. However, that does not mean that public image is irrelevant. Again, you represent the church of Seiros, and a poor public image for them reduces their credi-"

The boy is interrupted by a sudden splash, followed by Byleth withdrawing his stick from the water with a large trout on the end. "Dinner."

Ferdinand sighs. "Are you seriously going to have the chefs cook that?"

"No, I'm going to cook it."

"I doubt they'll let you use the kitchen."

"I use my fireplace."

Ferdinand blinks once, twice. He can't be hearing this right. "Professor…"

"Yes?"

"You use the fireplace in your room to cook?"

"Of course."

"Why don't you just eat at the mess hall?"

"I can?"

"Wait, wait, wait…" Ferdinand shakes his head vigorously for a second. This whole situation is absurd. "Professor, did you think the mess hall was only for students?"

"Of course. It's called the student's mess hall."

"Where do you usually get your food?"

Byleth points at the fish still twitching on the end of his stick, and then to the greenhouse. "I have to buy those."

Ferdinand can't believe this. How did this man ever become a teacher? "Professor, you get free meals. It's included with your being a teacher."

"Oh."

"You can order them from the chefs, and have it delivered anywhere. It's one of the privileges of being a teacher rather than a student."

"Oh."

There's a several second pause as the two of them stare at each other. Then, Byleth tilts the end of the stick towards Ferdinand.

"Want a fish?"

###

"Professor Eisner, while I understand the necessity of teaching combat to your students, and do not disagree that you should spar with them for practical demonstrations, I would remind you that your students don't share your incredible… worrying… erm… indifference." Seteth coughs.

"I don't see the problem." Byleth says as he casually holds Edelgard in a headlock with one arm while the other is pulling her weapon hand across her body to stop her from actually moving it. It's a very awkward looking position. Bernadetta, who hasn't sparred with Byleth yet (and everyone is expected to have a turn), looks like she's going to pass out from sheer anticipation of her impending humiliation at any moment.

"That's exactly the problem." Seteth sighs. "You don't see the issues at all."

"They're visible?"

"Yes, very."

"Such as?"

"Strangling your students."

"She has at least a minute left, and can tap out any time." Byleth replies simply. While Edelgard is still struggling, the man barely looks like he's paying attention to her anymore. "Next."

"There is also the issue of you carrying your students around over your shoulder."

"I think it was perfectly warranted."

"You broke into her room."

"I came in through the back entrance."

"There is no back entrance to the student's dorm rooms. We've been over this several times."

"If you can step through it, it's an entrance."

"While such thinking may be appropriate for military matters, it is not acceptable social behavior."

"Give me a second." Byleth says suddenly. He glances at Edelgard, who is growing weak in his grip, then back at the rest of his class. "See? A good grab allowed me to restrain Edelgard despite her superior strength. Keeping my arm straight makes it hard to bend, and therefore hard for Edelgard to use brute force to escape, as it provides conditional strength. Edelgard, your swings have too much follow-through. It leaves you open."

Byleth releases his student, and she gasps for the fresh air she's been missing. She coughs once or twice, and sits down on a bench as soon as she reaches it.

"You were saying?"

Seteth sighs deeply. "Don't break into people's rooms, don't do anything to harm the students, and for the goddess's sake please keep your… weirdness confined to your own quarters, or at the very least just your classroom."

"Okay." Byleth says simply, which does not reassure Seteth at all. The professor turns to his class once more. "Bernadetta, you're next."

The lavender-haired girl lets out a pitiful whimper. Seteth silently thinks to himself that it seems more likely the poor girl will faint midway than the spar will actually run its course.

###

"Professor…" Dorothea murmurs as she brushes the horse's mane alongside her teacher. "Really, you shouldn't have."

"Shouldn't have what?"

"If you wanted to be alone with me, you didn't need the excuse of a group task." She jokes. "Usually I do this with Bernie."

"She's not feeling well."

"Sure she isn't." The girl giggles. "Professor, she always 'isn't feeling well' when she has to leave her room."

"She threw up."

"Oh." Dorothea blinks.

"I didn't want you to have to do this alone."

"Oh. Well… thank you." Dorothea says. "You could have just assigned someone else you know, but you chose to come yourself…"

"Yes."

"Very smooth professor."

"Indeed. The horse is smooth."

"I was talking about you sir."

Byleth pauses, and raises a hand to pat his own hair. "Oily, not smooth."

Dorothea shakes her head and laughs softly. "Oh professor…"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. You're very innocent." The girl says with a smile.

"I've killed over a hundred people. I don't think I'm innocent."

"The fact that you think I'm talking about kills is exactly why you're innocent." Dorothea giggles.

Byleth pauses for a second as he tries to figure out what his student is talking about. "Were you… complimenting my movements? The ease in which I brush the horse? Was that smooth?"

The girl can barely contain her laughter. "Professor, don't think too hard about it."

###

"You're both holding back."

"Wha- oh, hey Teach. Didn't see you there." Caspar grunts. He struggles to overcome Petra's strength as the two grapple in the middle of the training grounds. Their hands are locked together, and it's clear the purple-haired girl has the upper hand by how she's slowly bending the boy's wrists backwards. "Don't know what you mean, I'm fighting pretty hard right now!"

"As I am too!" Petra agrees.

"Is this a spar?" Byleth asks. "Or a wrestling match?"

"Spar! No weapons." Caspar growls out. He attempts to pull one of his hands free from Petra's grip, but all it does is tug her forwards a bit so that they're basically nose-to-nose.

"Bite her."

"What?!"

"Bite her. You're close enough."

"Teach, we're not trying to injure-"

"Then kick her. Now. Between the legs."

"No!"

The distraction of Byleth's suggestions allows Petra to overpower the boy, and soon his hands are pinned behind his back and one of the girl's arms is tight around his throat. "I win." She remarks simply.

"Yep." Caspar gasps. Petra releases him, and the boy rubs his sore wrists. "Damn, you have a strong grip!"

"I thank you." Petra says proudly.

"Teach, I can't just bite or kick her." Caspar says. "That's, uh, improper so to speak. It's not right! She's a classmate."

"This is preparation for a real fight, correct?" Byleth frowns.

"Yeah?"

"Then you must not be so reserved. Survival is paramount. If you have not practiced such things, you will not be prepared to act on the opportunity in a real fight."

"Still, I can't bite her nose off!" Caspar protests. "And kicking her between the legs? That's just… that's just playing dirty Teach.."

There's a long pause as Byleth stares at him. The, he turns to Petra. "Petra, spar with me."

"Yes!" The girl says enthusiastically. "I accept! I have been much eager to test myself against you professor!"

Byleth grabs the usual protective pads for brawling. He puts on the helmet, the gloves that pad one's knuckles, a mouth guard, and a groin guard (which Caspar had forgotten they even had here). The teacher glances at Caspar. "Watch. This is the problem with propriety."

The fight starts simple enough, but the differences between Byleth's style and Petra's is instantly obvious. The professor has no qualms about going for the legs, and routinely tries to tangle and trip up Petra's long legs with tripping attacks. To her credit, the girl is quick to react and dodge all his attempts, and even lands a few solid counter-hits with max-range punches.

Then Byleth pulls out his trump card. He side-steps one of Petra's punches, and his hand snaps out to grab… her chest.

Petra squawks and freezes for a moment, and Byleth promptly smashes her in the side of the head with a brutal haymaker which sends her sprawling to the floor. Caspar gapes in shock as his teacher calmly turns to face him. "See? If you allow embarrassment to influence you in a fight, it can easily be your end."

"You- you-" Caspar blinks. "You can't just… but…"

"Petra, train yourself to punch rather than freeze." Byleth suggests, turning back to the girl who's picking herself up off the ground. "Or train to remain unaffected. That works better. There's no place for embarrassment in a battle."

"I see. Thank you professor." Petra nods seriously. Apparently the fact that she just got groped is easily forgiven, which totally boggles Caspar's mind.

Then again, there's a chance to Petra didn't take it too seriously purely because it's Byleth. Most of his students have realized by now that the man means well, even if he shows it in truly absurd fashion.

"Also, consider incorporating such underhanded tactics in brawling yourself. Aim for the groin and the eyes when you can, although perhaps not the eyes during spars. We don't have eye protection." Byleth suggests. "Also consider adding more kicks. You have long legs, make use of them."

"I understand." Petra nods again. "I will improve through endeavor! Your tutelage is appreciated."

Caspar sighs under his breath. Now he's going to have to worry about Petra kicking him in the groin while brawling. Fantastic. Teach made a few good points though. In a real fight, he can't afford to be bothered about what's "proper". He has a feeling his usual spars with Petra are going to be a lot more brutal from now on though…

###

"Professor, honestly…" Edelgard groans. "I'm fine. It happened once or twice."

Byleth gives her a neutral look, and then turns to Hubert. "Did she eat?"

"No."

The teacher's gaze returns to Edelgard with a slight frown, and Edlgard scowls up at Hubert. Byleth nudges the bowl of food forward with his finger and the princess sighs in defeat.

Sometimes Edelgard spends late nights dealing with matters pertaining to the Empire. Paperwork usually. That sometimes means she sleeps in and misses breakfast just so that she's rested for class.

Byleth, however, overhead her talking about that to Hubert, and now takes it upon himself to to bring her breakfast every morning directly to her room.

It's better than it used to be. The first day after he heard, he grabbed her out of her bed (still in her nightclothes) and carried her to the mess hall rather than allow her to miss breakfast. This (him casually picking her lock every morning, shaking her awake at precisely seven thirty, and shoving a plate of fruit, bread, and sausage into her hands) is much more preferable.

Hubert has taken to joining them in the morning, mostly (according to him) to make sure Byleth doesn't do anything sketchy. Edelgard has told him numerous times it's not necessary, but Hubert's concern is not so easily abated.

Edelgard isn't sure if she's fortunate to have, or cursed by, the attention and strange care of these two men.

###

"Today, we're talking about deception." Byleth says. He gestures to a very confused, if amused, Mercedes who's standing next to him. "For example, Marshmallow here may look like an innocent fluffball, but she's actually capable of magically erasing someone's life!"

"Erm… I didn't do that." Mercedes coughs.

Byleth pauses, the wind is totally ripped from his sail. "Marshmallow, didn't you say yesterday that you purified someone?"

"Well yes, that's a religious ritual." She explains. "I'm not clergy exactly, but the old man was too weak to make it to the church, so I performed confession for them as best I could…"

"Doesn't that mean you killed them?"

"Of course not, why would you assume that?"

"All the priests I've run into who 'purify' people involve a ritual that includes dissection, curses, and indiscriminate murder."

"Professor." Edelgard coughs. "May I remind you that your experience is not at all reflective of the rest of the world? From what you've told us, you've never interacted with normal clergy before a month ago. I'm fairly sure your knowledge of religious matters is limited to insane cults."

There's a long pause. Byleth glances between Mercedes and Edelgard. Eventually, he says: "so Marshmallow isn't secretly murdering people?"

"No, she is not."

"She's just sugar?"

"If by that you mean 'sweet', yes."

"Oh."

Another awkward pause. Mercedes smiles patiently as Byleth thinks. The professor then turns back to his class.

"And sometimes, someone can seem suspicious, but they're actually just fluff. That's also deception, but it's just you deceiving yourself. Always double-check your facts and sources."

"Professor, why do you call Mercedes Marshmallow, and why is she fluff?" Linhardt sigh.

"Because she looks like a marshmallow." Byleth says simply. "She's sweet and fluffy." To prove his point, he reaches over and fluffs the girl's hair, which she patiently allows. "See? Fluff."

"At some point." Edelgard thinks as she massages her forehead in exasperation, "he's going to find someone less patient, and he's going to get punched or accused of sexual assault."

"Also, she's really light." Byleth adds, now completely off-track. Without warning, he scoops Mercedes up in his arms and holds her up over his head. "See?"

"Oh gods…" Bernadetta whines, empathizing with Mercedes embarrassment as the blonde-haired girl blushes and starts stammering. "He's going to parade her too…"

"Either that, or everyone is going to end up traumatized."

Just more miscellaneous ideas with socially incompetant Byleth and all the quirks that might arise from how he was raised. I wanted to show the more naive side of that here, rather than the "I'll do what needs to be done by any means I see fit" thing I did with Get to Class, or Else.