Chapter 51: On the bus
The morning sun beat down on the pavement outside U.A. High, promising a sweltering summer day. The humidity hung heavy in the air, but the atmosphere among the students of the Hero Course was buzzing with an electric mix of excitement and anxiety. Two large buses idled in the parking lot, their engines rumbling low like sleeping beasts.
Aizawa stood by the curb, looking as tired as ever, holding a clipboard and conversing in low tones with Vlad King, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-B.
Meanwhile, Tenya Iida was in full Class Representative mode.
"EVERYONE! PLEASE FORM TWO ORDERLY LINES!" Iida bellowed, his arms chopping through the air with robotic precision. He stood by the open door of the bus, acting as a human turnstile. "Load your luggage efficiently! We must adhere to the schedule! Seating is designated by student number!"
His voice was loud enough to rival a megaphone.
Katsuki Bakugo slouched toward the bus, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, a scowl etched permanently onto his face.
"Shut up, four-eyes," Bakugo growled, not even looking him in the eye. "Your damn voice is piercing my eardrums."
Iida froze mid-chop, his mouth hanging open in shock at the blatant disrespect for protocol.
Behind them, Aokiji walked up, carrying his bag over one shoulder. He watched Iida freeze and let out a small, internal sigh of relief.
Nice one, Bakugo, Aokiji thought. Finally, some silence.
He stepped onto the first step of the bus, ready to enjoy the quiet.
"Don't mind him, Iida-san!"
Momo Yaoyorozu walked, offering a supportive smile to the paralyzed Class Rep. "You are doing a great job. Please continue directing us!"
Iida's eyes lit up behind his glasses. His engine revved back to life.
"YES! THANK YOU, YAOYOROZU-KUN! ALRIGHT EVERYONE! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!"
Aokiji paused on the stairs, his face scrunching into a frown of pure annoyance.
"Never mind," he muttered under his breath, dragging himself up the aisle.
The bus interior was cool, the air conditioning blasting a welcome relief from the summer heat. Aokiji found his assigned seat. He slid in next to the window, tossing his bag onto the overhead rack.
A moment later, someone sat down next to him.
It was Kyoka Jiro.
She settled into the aisle seat, plugging her earphone jacks into her phone immediately. She seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact, fixing her gaze on the seat back in front of her.
Aokiji leaned back, crossing his arms. He glanced at her profile—the dark purple hair, the punk-rock vibe, the quiet demeanor.
"If the seat doesn't suit you," Aokiji drawled lazily, "I can ask Aizawa-sensei to switch."
Jiro glanced at him sideways, twirling one of her jacks around her finger.
"I hate the cold," she admitted bluntly. "But... I don't have a personal problem with you. So, it's fine."
Aokiji raised an eyebrow, then relaxed into his seat. "That's reassuring."
Outside, the last of the luggage was loaded. Iida marched onto the bus, followed by Aizawa.
"ALRIGHT!" Iida shouted, turning to face the rows of students. "Seatbelts on! Keep the chatter to a minimum! Do not treat this like a simple field trip! This is a training camp designed to—"
"Give it a rest, Class Rep!" Kaminari shouted from the back, leaning over his seat.
"Yeah!" Kirishima chimed in, high-fiving Mineta. "It's time to have some fun!"
"MUSIC START!" Kaminari yelled.
Click.
Upbeat pop music blasted from a portable speaker, filling the bus. The tension broke instantly. Ashido and Hagakure started dancing in their seats. Sero drummed on his knees. The bus erupted into chaos and laughter.
Iida looked horrified. "This... this is a violation of bus decorum!"
He turned to Aizawa, expecting the teacher to silence them.
Aizawa didn't move. He sat in the front seat, pulling a sleeping bag out of nowhere. He placed a heavy hand on Iida's rigid shoulder.
"Let them be," Aizawa mumbled, his eyes already closing.
Iida blinked. "Sensei?"
"This is the only time they'll have to smile," Aizawa said darkly. "Once we arrive... The hardwork will begin. Let them have their fun now."
Iida swallowed hard. He looked back at his cheering classmates, then nodded slowly. A small, resigned smile touched his lips as he sat down.
The bus hissed, the doors closed, and they rolled out of the U.A. gates.
[Bus No. 2 - Class 1-B]
The atmosphere in the second bus was different.
Neito Monoma stood in the center aisle, gripping the back of a seat like a politician at a podium. His blue eyes were wide with manic intensity.
"Listen up, everyone!" Monoma shouted, gesturing wildly. "Class A thinks they are superior because of the U.S.J. incident and the Sports Festival! But this is it! This is our chance! We will show them how much we have evolved! This training camp is the turning point where Class B takes the spotli—"
The bus lurched forward as the driver hit the gas.
THUD.
Monoma lost his balance and face-planted spectacularly into the floor of the aisle.
"Pfft—!" Kendo and Tetsutetsu burst out laughing, while the rest of Class B shook their heads. Monoma lay there, groaning, his grand speech cut short by inertia.
[Bus No. 1 - Class 1-A]
In the back of the bus, the music was loud, but a bubble of heavy silence existed in the last row.
Izuku Midoriya was sitting next to Katsuki Bakugo.
Midoriya sat stiffly, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes fixed on his backpack in his lap. Bakugo was staring out the window, his jaw clenched, radiating an aura that screamed 'Don't talk to me or I'll blow you up.'
Midoriya hesitated. Slowly, carefully, he reached into his bag.
Inside lay the Gold Medal from the U.A. Sports Festival.
It was heavy. Shiny. The symbol of being Number One. The prize that Aokiji had left behind.
Midoriya stared at the gold disc, then lifted his gaze to the front of the bus, where he could see the back of Aokiji's head four rows up.
"Tch.. Why do you still have that?"
The voice was low and dangerous.
Midoriya jumped. Bakugo hadn't turned his head, but his red eyes were shifting in the reflection of the window, glaring at the medal.
"If he didn't want it," Bakugo spat, "you should have thrown it in the trash."
"I... I want to give it back to him," Midoriya whispered. "How do you feel about this medal, Kacchan?"
Bakugo finally turned. His face was twisted in a scowl of pure irritation.
"Do you want me to kill you?" Bakugo hissed. "I feel like it's an insult. To me. To the half-and-half bastard. To everyone who fought."
He pointed a finger at the box.
"Winning and then rejecting the proof? Standing on the podium and acting like it meant nothing? Damn it... why did he stand in front of me if he was just going to throw it away? It pisses me off."
Midoriya looked down at the box. "I can't blame him completely. Not after what happened. Maybe... in that moment after winning... Kuzan-kun felt like he had just become a tool. Especially after the show his father put on for the world."
"Hah?" Bakugo scoffed. "If my old man was like that, I'd just blow him up. It's not that complicated."
"You're an exception, Kacchan," Midoriya said with a nervous smile. "Kuzan-kun isn't like you."
"What you're saying," Bakugo leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl, "is just a fancy way of calling him weak-willed."
Midoriya looked at his own reflection in the gold surface of the medal. He thought about the ice web. He thought about the terrifying power Aokiji had shown against All Might.
"Weak-willed..." Midoriya murmured. "I don't think so."
He looked up at the back of Aokiji's seat again.
"This medal... it isn't something that should be thrown away carelessly. He earned it. I'm going to make sure I give it back to him today."
Bakugo stared at Midoriya for a second, then scoffed and turned back to the window.
"Do whatever you want, nerd. Just keep that shiny trash out of my face."
The bus rumbled on, carrying them away from the city and toward the mountains, unaware of the trials awaiting them in the forest.
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