2

“Class A’s bus is this way. Please line up in order!”

Tenya Ida, president of class A, was in top form as he corralled his classmates toward the bus parked in one of U.A.’s lots.

“Beautiful day, huh!” remarked Izuku Midoriya, adjusting his camping bag on his back. Shoto Todoroki’s blasé reply was, “Guess so.” He had nothing against Midoriya—this was just his usual energy level.

“Thanks a lot for teaching us and stuff, Professorozu!” said Mina Ashido.

“What she said! And how about another study party come winter term finals?” added Denki Kaminari.

“If you think I can be of assistance, then yes, absolutely!” replied Momo Yaoyorozu, to the two tutees who had needed her help the most. Kyoka Jiro couldn’t help throwing a jab Kaminari’s way.

“Try cracking a book yourself next time, Kaminari.”

“Ugh. Always kicking a guy when he’s down, huh, Jiro?”

A few paces away, Tsuyu Asui stared at Ochaco Uraraka’s bag.

“Packing light, Ochaco?”

“Yeah, nice and compact is what I was going for. Your bag’s huge, Tsuyu!”

“The biggest one we had at home. Big enough to fit me in there, even.”

This was the first day of training camp. In telling his students that those who failed their final exams would miss the camp and have to endure summer school hell, class A’s homeroom teacher Shota Aizawa had perpetrated another of his so-called rational deceptions. This one had been designed to give some of the kids the kick in the pants they needed. All had passed the written exams, but Kaminari, Kirishima, Ashido, and Rikido Sato had failed their practicals. Hanta Sero and Minoru Mineta’s duo had technically passed, but since Sero had been immediately put to sleep by Midnight’s Quirk during the exercise, he’d received a failing grade. All five would be attending supplementary lessons during the camp, which was simply hell by another name. Still, the entire class was ready to attend a week of training camp.

Though Uraraka and a few others lived on their own while attending U.A., most still lived at home with their parents. Needless to say, the prospect of a week in the great outdoors without parents had them good and stoked. There was also the matter of Midoriya encountering the League of Villains’ Tomura Shigaraki at the mall just a few days prior, which had prompted a last-minute change of location for the training camp, for security reasons. This only added to the class’s desire to escape the anxieties of everyday life and leave it all behind for a spell.

“Our bus is over here. Hurry up.”

Class B’s president, Itsuka Kendo, herded her classmates toward their own separate bus.

This training camp was to be a joint exercise for the two first-year classes of the Hero Course—A and B. Though Neito Monoma, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, and a few other class B students had sparked rivalries with their class A counterparts at the Sports Festival, the two classes didn’t interact much, so this was yet another factor throwing electricity into the air.

“The ‘B’ must stand for ‘bountiful babe buffet’…” muttered Mineta as he ogled the class B girls boarding their bus. Though he didn’t actually make a move, his drool and heavy breathing alone bordered on sexual harassment—all par for the course for this embodiment of lust.

“Mineta! That is class B’s bus. You need to line up over here!” shouted Ida, not noticing what was drawing Mineta’s attention. The class president’s reprimand ended the boy’s momentary fantasy, and he reluctantly joined his classmates.

“Now then, we will sit according to our seating chart in class!”

Ashido groaned at Ida’s demand.

“Do we gotta, really? Why not just sit wherever?”

“But going by the standard arrangement will make the process quicker and more efficient, no?”

“C’monnn, it’s not every day we get a training camp trip! Why make it extra boring on purpose?”

“Ashido. This trip is an official school function, so I’m afraid your boredom is irrelevant to the matter.”

“I wanna sit wherever, too!” said Kaminari, backing up Ashido.

Ida thought for a moment.

“Shall we take a vote to decide?”

“Just get on the bus already,” said Aizawa from behind, before anyone could respond. He had the final say, and the students of class A rushed onto the bus without another word. Aizawa hated wasting time more than anything—a fact that his students knew all too well.

It was a standard tour bus with five rows of four seats each, two on either side of the aisle.

“Wanna sit with me, Ochaco?” asked Tsuyu, seeing Uraraka glance around.

“Yeah! Definitely!”

The class streamed onto the bus.

“I want a window seat!”

“Ugh, whose bag is this blocking the aisle?”

“The seats way in the back… That’s where the baaad kids sit, yeah?”

“It doesn’t matter where you sit, just sit.”

Aizawa’s gravelly voice once again brought the commotion to a swift end.

The bus engine rattled to life. By the time the scenery was flying by, Aizawa’s authority had all but evaporated.

“Let’s have some music! Something summery! Some Tube songs, maybe!” said Kaminari to his front row seatmate, Kirishima.

“No way, nothing beats Carol’s End of Summer in the summertime!” said Kirishima, scrolling through his phone for tunes.

“But it’s not the end.”

On the other side of the bus, also in the first row, Ashido and Toru Hagakure played a game.

“Your turn!”

“I spy a bank!”

“I spy money in the bank!”

The class was as wild and carefree as a group of kindergartners on a field trip. Aizawa—sitting in front of Hagakure—was about to blow his top when the presidential Ida stood up and shouted from his seat behind Kaminari.

“Quiet down now, everyone! Didn’t you read the pamphlet for this excursion? Including the reminder to always respect the rules, as we are at all times ambassadors for U.A.?”

But Ida’s voice was drowned out by the din. His own seatmate, Midoriya, grabbed his shoulder gently.

“Th-that’s all right, Ida. Besides, you probably shouldn’t stand up while we’re moving.”

“Hmph! How careless of me!”

Oh, whatever, thought Aizawa, giving up on any hope of disciplining his class and deciding instead to catch forty winks. He knew that all the chiding in the world wouldn’t keep the noise from rising up again, like the immortal phoenix, and he needed to conserve his energy and sanity if he was to survive a full week of cohabitation with these kids. Besides, this would be their last chance to get it out of their systems.

As Aizawa settled into his nap, Asui offered Uraraka a thin red box.

“Want some Pocky, Ochaco?”

“Sure do!”

“Give me some Pocky as well, oui?”

“Here, Tsuyu, I brought candy too!”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, I said give me some Pocky,” repeated Yuga Aoyama, peeking through the seats in front of the girls. Todoroki sat to his left, behind Ashido.

“Whoa, Aoyama!”

“I didn’t expect you to be a fan of Pocky, Aoyama,” remarked Tsuyu as she slipped the box between the seats, allowing Aoyama to grab one of the chocolate-covered sticks.

“Merci,” said the boy, flipping his hair for no apparent reason. “I was up late last night packing and overslept. No time for breakfast, you see, so this Pocky will have to suffice. ☆”

“‘Suffice’? Kinda rude to the Pocky, don’tcha think?” said Uraraka. “It’s the ultimate harmony between pretzel and chocolate!”

The frugal Uraraka was keenly aware of the value of things—hence her impassioned defense of such a luxury item. The candy she shared with Asui had been part of a care package from her parents.

“As you say, mademoiselle.”

Upon finishing his stick of Pocky, Aoyama extracted a compact mirror with sparkly decorations from his pocket and began checking himself out from all angles.

“You mind?” grumbled Todoroki, who’d been blinded by reflected sunlight.

“Sorry, ☆” said Aoyama, shifting closer to the window, still not quite done with his mirror.

“I must sparkle more than the morning sun, even. ☆”

“You’re something else, Aoyama,” said Uraraka.

“In an almost impressive way. Almost,” added Asui, nodding at her friend.

Behind them, Bakugo and Fumikage Tokoyami had their eyes shut, as uninterested in the music, games, and antics as their teacher. Bakugo was already fast asleep, while Tokoyami was meditating in an attempt to drown out the world around him. The seats behind them held Mashirao Ojiro and Sero, with Mineta and Sato to their left, across the aisle.

“Ashido’s not the only one excited for this ‘test of courage’ thing! Can’t wait to try scaring people,” said Sero.

“Or sneaking up from behind and grabbing their boobs!”

“That’s technically a crime, Mineta,” said an exasperated Ojiro. Next to Mineta, Sato unfolded a delicate paper package.

“Want some marshmallows, guys? I’ve got vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.”

“Only if marshmallows is code for boobs!” quipped Mineta, who only ever had one thing on the brain. In front of them sat class A’s taciturn twosome, Mezo Shoji and Koji Koda. Shoji broke the silence.

“Koda.”

“Y-yes?”

“Want the window seat?”

“No, I’m okay here, actually…”

“Right. Sure.”

Their entire row—the one with Bakugo and Tokoyami—fell back into silence.

“Momoyao, wanna listen? I’ve been hooked on this band that does arrangements of classical stuff,” asked Jiro in the next row up.

“My, that sounds fascinating.”

“We can listen together, then,” said Jiro, handing Yaoyorozu one of her earbuds.

“What’s up, Tsuyu?”

Asui had poked her head above the seat to scan the rest of the bus.

“Nothing. We’ve been driving awhile, is all,” she said before sitting back down next to Uraraka.

“Yeah, I hear you. Kinda exciting, though, going on a trip with everyone! I swore I’d keep awake and chat the whole time, but now I’m getting sleepy…”

“Where’d you go for your big field trip in middle school, Ochaco?”

“Tokyo! It was great living the dream for a few days. How about you, Tsuyu?”

“Hokkaido, of all places.”

“Ooh, nice! I hear they’ve got good crab up there.”

“The crab was tasty, but… Ribbit,” said Asui, a froggy chuckle escaping her lips.

“Hmm? So good you’re laughing just remembering it?”

“Nuh-uh. I had this friend named Habuko, you see, and she couldn’t stand the cold. Worse than me, even. She was as excited as anyone for the trip, but the closer we got to Hokkaido, the drowsier she got…”

“Yikes. Nothing you can do about the climate, I guess.”

“But she still wanted to enjoy herself, so we came up with a way to keep her awake.”

“Yeah?”

“She just needed to keep warm, right? So we borrowed a bunch of clothes from our classmates for her to wear.”

“And? Did the strategy work?”

“Yes, but by the end, she was practically a snowman with all those puffy layers. She’d never looked cuter.”

“Sounds like you made some good memories!”

“Uh-huh,” said Asui with a grin, just before a reflected beam of light shot into her eyes from between the seats in front of her.

“Too bright, Aoyama.”

“Oui…”

But this wasn’t the typical, enthusiastic oui they’d come to expect from the boy. Uraraka and Asui glanced at each other before peeking through the seats.

“You okay, Aoyama?”

“Ughh…”

A pale Aoyama was draped against the wall of the bus, head resting on the windowsill. One limp hand still clutched his compact mirror.

“What’s the matter?” asked Uraraka. Todoroki had been listening to Midoriya and Ida’s conversation, but at this, he turned and noticed the state of his seatmate.

“Something wrong?” asked Todoroki. Midoriya and Ida also glanced over.

“Probably motion sickness, from staring into that mirror all this time?” proposed Asui, but Aoyama took a deep breath and fired back.

“My beautiful visage could never make anyone sick, least of all moi… ☆”

With his whole body trembling violently, he managed a weak wink.

“We applaud your brave face, but you really need to take it easy,” said Asui, not beating around the bush.

“Non, non… I will be…just fine… Urp.”

Sensing what might be coming, Uraraka yelled, “Anyone got a barf bag?”

“Someone as beautiful as myself would never do such a thing… And if I did, even the barf would surely twinkle… Urrp.”

The rest of the class paused their own conversations and took notice.

“Eh? Aoyama’s gonna hurl?”

“How awful!”

“You okay, man?”

“Sick from staring into a mirror? You idiot!”

“He reaps what he sows…”

While commentary poured in, Asui calmly gave advice.

“Let’s get that window open, first. Then loosen your shirt collar and try to lie down.”

“Got it,” said Todoroki, taking charge. He stood up, cracked the window, and raised the armrest between him and Aoyama. After undoing the top button of his uniform, Aoyama said “Merci… ☆” and lay down, per his doctor’s orders.

“I can, um…switch seats with you, Todoroki!” offered Midoriya, but Todoroki declined. Instead, he crouched and flipped open the extra aisle seat. It was smaller than the capacious standard ones, with nothing in the way of back support.

“That’s not gonna work for you, Todoroki!” laughed Ashido, seeing the boy awkwardly perch himself on the tiny platform.

“Not even a little!” agreed Hagakure.

“I don’t think these seats were designed to ‘work’ for anyone,” said Todoroki flatly.

Midoriya couldn’t take it, though.

“C-come on, Todoroki. Just switch with me! I’m smaller, after all!”

“Nonsense. As class president, this is my burden to bear!” said Ida, who was now standing and engaging in one of his strange habits—swinging one of his arms wildly.

“No way, Ida! You’re practically the biggest one here!”

“But, Midoriya, the president must always be ready to suffer for his class! Why, I could even get by performing air chair!”

“Air chair? So can I!” said Midoriya, fighting back.

Seeing these two squabble, as if each were insisting on paying the bill at a restaurant, Todoroki stood up and laid his hands on their shoulders.

“It’s fine. Really. I have a place to sit, and that’s good enough.”

“Right. And what matters now is that Aoyama starts feeling better,” pointed out Asui, which convinced Midoriya and Ida to sit back down. Todoroki took his new seat too. Up in the first row, Kirishima—still looking at his phone—had an idea.

“Says here there’s a pressure point that can help when you’re carsick! Just press the spot two fingers’ width down your wrist.”

“Let’s try,” said Todoroki, volunteering for duty. But as he reached for Aoyama’s arm, Todoroki shuddered and froze up.

“Wait. No. Not me…” he muttered, all eyes on him. Todoroki stared intently at his own hands and held his breath, as if about to confess to murder.

“When I get involved, people’s hands end up destroyed…”

“Huh?”

“I’m the hand crusher…”

Most of the kids had absolutely no idea what Todoroki was mumbling about, but Midoriya and Ida burst out laughing. Their friend had made a similar remark when all three had found themselves hospitalized in Hosu City after battling the Hero Killer, Stain. Ida had suffered permanent damage to one of his hands during the attack, and Midoriya had mangled his own hands when he’d fought Todoroki during the Sports Festival. The common element was Todoroki himself, so he was particularly wary about hurting other people’s hands now, even if Midoriya and Ida took it as a joke.

“I just can’t… Someone else needs to press your pressure point.”

“I can do it myself, merci. If everyone could just leave me be, actually…” said Aoyama.

“Also… It might help if we distracted the patient somehow!” offered Kirishima, still reading off his phone.

“I know just the thing,” said Ashido. “Let’s go in order and play the word chain game!”

At her suggestion, Midoriya started muttering like mad, mostly to himself.

“That might be perfect, actually… It’s a simple game on the surface, but thinking up words does require some focus. Since each subsequent word has to start with the final letter of the last one, your options are more limited than you’d think. And no time for deep thought, right? Because the other players are pressuring you to hurry up. That sort of mild stress activates the brain cells and trains the mind… Two birds, one stone.”

“Haven’t heard Deku’s wacky muttering in a while!” said Uraraka with a wide smile.

“Eh? Oops, sorry,” said a blushing Midoriya.

Ida stood up and faced the back of the bus.

“On that note, attention, everyone! Our friend Aoyama is suffering from motion sickness, so we will be playing the word chain game to keep his mind otherwise occupied!”

“The word chain game?” said Mineta, clearly not thrilled about the idea.

“What’re we, in grade school?” mocked Sero.

Ashido shot back.

“Yeah, the word chain game! It’s also the perfect way to kill some time!”

“No, Ashido, this is for dear Aoyama’s sake! But also perhaps a way to practice cooperating as a class, in light of the impending training camp!”

Ida’s insistence got the rest of the class on board.

“All in agreement? Very well. To give our ailing Aoyama time to think, let’s begin from this side of the bus, with Kaminari, then Kirishima, myself, Midoriya, and so on.”

“Okay,” said Ashido. “What’s our starting word?”

“How about training camp, so Kaminari’s gotta start with p!” proposed Hagakure.

Kaminari thought hard for a moment.

“Perturb. As in, what Mamayao’s cookies did to my stomach.”

“My turn!” said Kirishima. “B, huh? Let’s see… B... B... Bulletproof!”

“F… Footwork! An obvious choice, for me,” said Ida.

Midoriya was up.

“K… Hmm… Oh, Kamui Woods! Names are allowed, right?”

“You sure do love your heroes,” quipped Todoroki.

“That would make my letter s, I suppose. Well, I do enjoy reading and studying, so how about scholar,” said Yaoyorozu with a reassured nod. Next to her, Jiro furrowed her brow.

“R… R… Ah, how about reggae? Pfft…”

“What’s so funny, Jiro?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“Just thinking how, when Kaminari goes into dummy mode, his favorite music genre’s probably ‘regg-yayyy.’”

“You never miss a chance to take a shot at me, huh,” grumbled Kaminari, peeking over his seat at the laughing Jiro. Farther back, Shoji spoke.

“My turn… E… Extremity, then.”

Fitting, as Shoji’s Quirk was “Dupli-Arms.” It was now the animal-loving Koda’s turn.

“Y… Y… Yaks…?”

“Like the animal? Not what Aoyama’s about to do?” said Sato. “Lemme see… So I got s… Spoom!”

“The heck is that?” asked Mineta, unfamiliar with Sato’s chosen word.

“A dessert! Kinda like sorbet, but lighter, and served in a glass. Usually made with fruit juice, or even fruity alcohol.”

On the other side of the bus, Tokoyami muttered “Fruit? Like apples…?” though nobody heard him.

“Fine, fine, my turn,” said Mineta. “You gave me m, so… Misandry. For all those man-hating women out there.”

Mineta started gnawing on his nails, prompting his seatmate, Sero, to ask, “Seriously, man, what did Mt. Lady do to you during that internship?”

“I might just tell you, but only if you’re ready to never trust females again…”

“You know what? Never mind. Anyway, I’ve got y, then? Umm… Yuca!”

“Yuca?” asked a dumbfounded Ojiro, who was up next.

“Never heard of yuca? It’s a tropical tuber, kinda like a potato. Real healthy, though, with manganese and vitamin C, which boosts the immune system, keeps your heart pumping, and even prevents wrinkles,” explained Sero, clearly in his element.

At the mention of wrinkle prevention, Hagakure yelped, “Ooh, I’d better eat some yuca, then!” Her Quirk made her completely invisible, but the girl was still, for some reason, obsessed with skin care.

“You sure know a lot about it…” said Ojiro.

“What can I say?” added Sero. “I’m all about healthy foods.”

“Almost seems unfair, using a word nobody’s heard of.”

“Heh. Word chain game is a battle of wits, and I’ve come well armed,” bragged Sero.

Ojiro narrowed his eyes at the cackling Sero and started to think of his own word.

“A… Oh, ant!”

“C’mon, that’s so ordinary. Boring, even,” said Sero, feeling let down by Ojiro’s choice.

“What’s wrong with being ordinary…?” mumbled Ojiro with an expression of pure angst.

From the next seat up, Tokoyami gave the two boys a silent stare.

“Your turn, Tokoyami,” urged Ida, since Tokoyami was staying quiet.

“Your letter is t, Tokoyami,” said Asui, peeking back between the seats.

“Twilight,” said Tokoyami, but only because the others wouldn’t leave him alone until he played along. Uraraka was impressed, at any rate.

“Ooh, perfect word for you. Next is…Bakugo. Wait, is he sleeping?”

Bakugo was indeed dead to the world, so Sero reached around and jostled him.

“That takes guts…” murmured Midoriya from his seat up front, obviously impressed with Sero’s bravery.

“Bwuh?”

Bakugo’s eyes popped open.

“Your turn, man. We’re playing the word chain game.”

“And your letter is t, Bakugo. Got that? T!”

All eyes were on Bakugo, and his own eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Huhh? Word chain?”

“Yes. You got t,” repeated an unafraid Uraraka.

“She’s got guts, too…” repeated Midoriya, drawing Bakugo’s attention. Whether it was the sight of Midoriya’s face that did it or not, Bakugo’s blood pressure spiked.

“Trying to rope me into your stupid game for babies? Buzz off!”

“Not exactly a word, but good enough. So my letter is f,” said an unshaken Asui.

“Wait! What? That wasn’t me joining in! Don’t make me part of this!”

But Bakugo was now part of this, and the class moved on.

“I think I know what your f word is gonna be, Asui…” said Uraraka.

“You’re expecting frog…? Just to mix things up, I’ll go with flag.”

“That still leaves me with g! Okay… Hmm… Gouda! It’s not mochi, but cheese isn’t all bad,” declared Uraraka.

Asui peeked over at Aoyama and said, “It’s your turn. And your letter is…”

“Urrp…”

Aoyama was as pale and limp as ever.

“Still not feeling well, huh… Why don’t you take your turn, Todoroki?” suggested Asui.

“Fine… Hmm…”

Todoroki fell into deep thought, scowling, unaware of all the eyes on him. Then, in a flash, he raised his head.

“Hypothermia.”

“But gouda ends in a, not h, Todoroki! That means the game’s over,” said Midoriya.

“Aww, I didn’t get to go!” said Ashido from the next seat up, clearly annoyed.

“Oh. Sorry,” was Todoroki’s rather unconcerned apology.

“Why don’t we restart the game, beginning with a?”

“But, Ida, maybe this isn’t the best game for poor Aoyama? We need something that can keep his mind occupied the entire time,” suggested Asui.

“Hrm. You may be right,” said Ida with an overly profound nod. “How about a quiz, then?”

“Yeah, right on! Quizzes and bus trips were made for each other.”

Kaminari’s enthusiasm brought a confident smile to Ida’s face.

“As I am class president, I will come up with the quiz questions. Aoyama will be given the first chance to answer, and if he fails to do so, the question goes to the rest of you! On that note, question one… Factor the following: (x - 1)(x - 2)(x - 4)(x - 7) + 16.”

“Not that kinda quiz! None of us wanna be doing homework!”

Ida was taken aback at Kaminari’s protest.

“But we are high schoolers, are we not?”

“In this setting, a quiz is more like…trivia! Y’know, fun stuff! Give him an example, Midoriya!”

“Eh, me? I-I dunno…”

Midoriya wasn’t quite ready for this sudden responsibility, but he immediately started thinking.

“Okay, let’s start simple… Way back when, All Might was doing a live segment for the TV show Passionate Planet. In the middle of shooting, a dog ran into the road, and All Might saved it from getting run over. What was that dog’s name?”

“How would literally anybody know that besides All Might himself?” said Uraraka, poking fun at Midoriya. He squirmed, clearly embarrassed.

“I assumed everyone knew nearly everything about All Might… My other questions were gonna be ‘How many times did All Might say the words I am in his Heroes Monthly interview three years ago?’ and ‘What color was his necktie when he did the photo shoot for that interview?’”

“Nope. Nobody knows any of that stuff,” said Kirishima.

Midoriya’s eyes grew wide. “Eh? Really? You guys weren’t counting the number of times he said I am? You didn’t take note of his outfit?”

“You’re the biggest All Might fanboy here, Midoriya,” added Asui.

In Midoriya’s mind, “fanboy” was just another way to describe someone following his dreams. Feeling like the others had recognized his love for All Might, he chuckled and blushed.

“She didn’t mean it as a compliment, you goddamn nerd!”

Seeing his childhood playmate’s awkward smile was more than enough to light Bakugo’s fuse. Or maybe he was always lighting it himself, subconsciously?

“Aoyama, do you remember the dog’s name?” asked Ida, wanting to move on from the volatile reaction between Midoriya and Bakugo.

“Non… I never knew it to begin with…” said a weary Aoyama, hair flapping in the breeze from the open window. Near his feet, Todoroki looked up at Midoriya.

“Was it Pochi?”

“So close! Ponta, actually!”

“All right. That’s enough of this sorry excuse for a quiz,” groaned Kaminari.

A voice from the back row.

“None of you have a clue how to go about this, huh?”

Everyone turned to look at Mineta.

“You need a way to keep a man distracted? Then open the floor to me.”

“Better not be some pervy story,” said Jiro with a scowl. Yaoyorozu backed her up.

“Yes. Nothing vulgar, please.”

“All I’m talking about is a way for a guy to keep his mind off things!”

“Sure, except your mind and mouth have taken up permanent residence in the gutter!”

“Yeah, that’s right!”

Mineta’s expression showed his utter contempt for the girls shouting him down. Meanwhile, Ida stood up and turned toward Mineta, hoping to cut the confrontation short.

“Listen to reason, Mineta! We’re inside a bus, so I’ll ask that you not force others to listen to these stories of yours!”

“Please, President… I’m a man who knows his audience. There’s a time and place for everything, right? And what? Is this suddenly a dictatorship?”

“Of course not! I have the utmost respect for everyone’s views and opinions!”

“Then it’s not really fair for you to cut me off before I’ve even started, right?”

“Hrm… I suppose not. Very well. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Always striving to be fair and just, Ida had been cowed by Mineta’s sophistry, triggering another round of outcries from the girls. Most of the boys were silent, with a few secretly looking forward to whatever was coming.

“This was back in elementary school, yeah? There was this video rental place, and they’d just stopped me from peeking at the R-rated corner for about the hundredth time…”

Mineta wore a queer expression as he started his story, and Sero couldn’t believe his ears.

“You’ve been like this since elementary?”

“A perv right outta the womb!” cried Ashido from the front row.

Mineta snorted and retorted, “Ha! You call that perverted? I’m just getting started! Anyhow, I was walking home from the video store, and near the riverbank in my neighborhood, a piece of paper flew past my feet. White, standard size… It wasn’t from a dirty mag, so I was gonna just keep on walking, but something told me to check, just in case. So I picked it up and turned it over, and the back was covered in all this writing. Couldn’t read most of the kanji since I was so little, right? Still, I could sense it was something special.”

“How? What’d you sense, exactly?” asked Mineta’s seatmate, Sato.

“What can I say? This piece of paper was just oozing with passion. Anyway, I brought my discovery home, keeping it secret, and whipped out a kanji dictionary to help me decode the writing… Debase… Slobber… Impurity… Turned out to be a page from a novel about a young widow who starts selling her body to pay back her dead husband’s debts…”

“Not exactly proper reading material for a little kid,” said Ojiro with a pained look. Mineta snorted again.

“Don’t be dumb. The gates of literature are open to people of all ages, no?”

“Yeah, but that definitely sounds like erotica,” said Jiro, not hiding her disdain for her classmate. Another snort from Mineta.

“I prefer to call it an amorous novel! Listen, porn and steamy lit are as different as can be. Like sun and moon! An electric range and a roaring bonfire! If porn is your basic Turkish bath, then fine literature like this is a hot springs retreat in the mountains! It’s the difference between fast food and a seven-course meal! It’s like…”

Mineta was a man on a mission, and the metaphors kept coming until Shoji produced a mouth at the end of one of his dupli-arms and spoke.

“We get it. Calm down.”

“Of all the stupid…” growled Bakugo, looking like he’d swallowed something bitter. As he attempted to fall back asleep, his seatmate, Tokoyami, said “Agreed” and shut his eyes for another round of meditation. Paying them no mind, Mineta resumed his tale.

“So, like anyone would, I wanted to know the rest of the story. I ran down to the riverbank the next day and found a bunch more pages, all scattered around. When I started picking ’em up, though, this middle-aged homeless dude shambled over and said, ‘Give those back…’ I was like, ‘No way, they’re mine now!’ and ran home with everything I’d found.”

“Huh? What if the book really was his?” asked Ashido.

“That’d make you a thief,” said Kirishima.

Mineta brushed off the accusation with a big wave of one of his tiny hands.

“Just keep listening… I got home, got out the dictionary again, and kept reading. The sexy young widow discovers her hidden talent for pole dancing and quickly rises to the top of her field. Along the way, she has a fling with a waiter, gets into catfights with her fellow dancers, and agrees to be the club owner’s mistress… Until that relationship blossoms into true love…”

“Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“I like where this is going, actually…”

The girls had been only reluctantly half listening, but their ears pricked up at true love, since they were at just the right age to go gaga over romance, even more than over sweets. Mineta surveyed his audience haughtily, knowing they were good and hooked.

“So then the club owner wants to help the widow escape her sordid life, right? But the waiter goes crazy with jealousy and rats them out to the manager, who—BLAM—shoots the club owner dead… The boss makes the widow his mistress, and she gives in to lust as a way to forget the death of her true love.”

“I know the feeling! When times are tough, you gotta cling to whatever you can!” said Hagakure, nodding wildly.

“I’ll never forgive that darn waiter…” said Uraraka with all the subdued fury of a wronged protagonist in a kung fu film.

“Hang on, the boss of what, exactly?” asked Kaminari.

“As their affair gets hotter and hotter, the boss actually starts to fall for the widow. Yes, true love blossoms in his heart…”

Mineta put extra feeling into his retelling, making Jiro cock an eyebrow.

“Eh. What’s with all this blossoming love?”

“No, I totally get it! Men are pure souls too, deep down!” shouted Kirishima, raising a single clenched fist. Mineta went on.

“But she doesn’t understand this change that’s come over the boss. She thinks he’s just gotten sick of her, so she starts seducing every man she lays eyes on. Tells them to do whatever they want to her, as a way of punishing herself…”

“No! Don’t do it, girl! Have some self-respect!” cried Kaminari, finding it painful to imagine the widow’s further descent into debauchery.

“But then someone unexpected shows up to lend the widow a hand…” continued Mineta with gravitas. Most of the bus was turned toward him by this point, listening with rapt attention.

“Yeah?”

“Go on! Who was it?”

But their expectations were betrayed, to the last.

“Well, I ran out of pages right around there.”

“Argh! I gotta know what happens to the poor widow!” blurted out Kirishima, in spite of himself. The audience was hanging on Mineta’s every word now, and his smug smile only made them more curious.

“So I went back to the riverbank to find more pages. Searched ’til my eyes were aching, but no dice, since it’d already been a few days since I found the first part of the story. The homeless dude was still there, though, and he handed me a single page. ‘Looking for this, are you?’ he asked. It was more of the book, and it turned out this guy was actually the author.”

“No freaking way!” said Kaminari, practically leaping from his seat at this shocking twist.

“The homeless guy had always wanted to write erotica for a living, but he had only ever done it as a hobby since he didn’t have the courage to go public. One day, though, he came out and told his family that he was gonna become that sort of author. They were totally against the idea. Unable to stand their lack of support, the man left home and started living by the riverbank. That was about a week before I happened to walk by.”

“Walking out on family is hardly the mature thing to do,” said Yaoyorozu. “One must face reality before one’s dreams can come true.”

“C’mon, don’t be so harsh,” said Mineta. “When his family stood in the way of his dreams, this guy lost all his confidence. He basically gave up on everything and threw down the book he’d been working on, which was when the winds of fate blew the pages around and sent one flying right to my feet. I told the guy all this and explained how his book was so pervy—I mean, fascinating—that I’d looked up all those kanji in the dictionary just to read it!”

“And there we go. Pervy. Like I said,” quipped Jiro, right on cue. Mineta ignored her.

“The dude started crying tears of joy, hearing how excited I was about his story. ‘So don’t you dare give up on your dreams,’ I told him, and he called me a little knucklehead. In the end, I asked him to keep writing stories, cuz I’d promise to read them all and love every word… I also asked him to add more detailed descriptions of boobs, if possible!”

“Knucklehead? He wasn’t wrong, there,” said Sero. Mineta ignored that jab too.

“He swore he’d keep trying, shook my hand, and then we parted ways. Must’ve gotten his mojo back, since about a year later, he made his big debut as an up-and-coming erotica author.”

“Wow! How about that!”

“One of his books is about to get turned into a direct-to-video movie, even! Man, I can’t wait ’til I’m old enough to check out the R-rated section of the video store.”

Upon hearing that the man had achieved his dream, the whole bus was left feeling somewhat warm and fuzzy. But Kirishima was puzzled.

“This whole story wasn’t actually…that pervy…?”

“True… Almost something wholesome about it…in a weird way…” agreed Midoriya.

Some of the other boys made odd faces, like the story had given them indigestion.

“Hang on!” said Hagakure. “How’d the book about the widow end?”

Mineta’s face filled with animalistic lust, his eyes bloodshot and his mouth curling into a disgusting sneer.

“Heh. You really want to know? Then drop by my place, and I’ll show you my signed copy, if you know what I mean.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!”

Another round of boos from the girls, but Mineta—wearing that same provocative sneer—accepted it all as a badge of honor. He lifted a soda to his lips and drained the whole thing, like a celebratory toast to himself after a hard-won victory.

“How’re you feeling, Aoyama?” asked Asui, checking in on her patient.

“Worse than ever, I’m afraid…”

Mineta’s story hadn’t distracted him from his woes at all, but Asui nevertheless decided to take a similar approach.

“How about a story from me, then? This one had my little brother on the edge of his seat.”

“Ooh, let’s hear it, Tsuyu,” said Kirishima, his curiosity piqued. Asui nodded, paused, and began.

“This happened when I was young. It was my first trip to stay with a cousin in the countryside. My big sister—two years older than me—took me out to play. We splashed in this shallow brook, hunted for cicadas, and played hide-and-seek in the sunflower fields.”

“Sounds amaaazing,” said Uraraka, beaming, as the description conjured an idyllic, pastoral tableau in her mind. The rest of the bus seemed to breathe a sigh of relief too, since Asui’s story was already sounding more pleasant than Mineta’s.

“At some point, another girl about my age came by and asked if I wanted to play with her. The more the merrier, I thought, happy to have a new friend. My sister remembered something she had to do, though, and headed back to the house without me.”

“Whoa, she just left you behind, Tsuyu?”

“The house wasn’t far, and my new friend and I wanted to keep playing. She seemed to have all the energy in the world, and before we knew it, it was sunset. I told her I had to get back, but she wouldn’t have it.”

“Kids can go on playing forever, if you let ’em,” remarked Kirishima, nodding. But a stern look came over Ida.

“Wouldn’t your late return cause your family members to worry?”

“Of course. Which is why I told her that we could play again the next day, but that only made her cry. So I agreed to stay out a little longer. She was so thrilled that she decided to bring me to her secret spot—a place filled with fireflies, apparently.”

“Fireflies… So magical…” cooed Hagakure, spellbound. This caught Aoyama’s attention.

“I shine brighter than any common firefly…” said the boy, still trembling like a newborn fawn.

“Oh? Aoyama speaks!” said Ashido, glancing at the seat behind her.

Any reference to things that shone, glittered, or sparkled were sure to get a rise out of Aoyama, so Asui’s story was already more interesting to him than Mineta’s. Asui waited until the chatter subsided and went on.

“She took my hand and led me up the mountain, along this little winding path, and through a small red torii gate. It was getting dark by that point, but I had my new friend, so I wasn’t scared. After a while we arrived at her secret spot, and as promised, there was wave after wave of fireflies dancing through the night. Almost like a rain shower of pure light!”

“Sounds amazing!”

The kids could picture the verdant mountainside, covered in ghostly orbs of light, each its own little moon condensed to a point, flickering in and out of existence. An illuminated dance so enchanting one might forget to blink while gazing in awe. The listeners imagined the scene with their own imaginative touches, captivated by the story. Even Aoyama, still trembling, spoke up.

“I too am like a shower of light…”

Asui surveyed her audience and took a breath before continuing.

“I honestly don’t know how long we stood there, taking in the beauty. In any case, when I heard my cousin calling me, the two of us ran back down the mountain. I thanked my friend for showing me her secret, and laughing, she said, ‘Make sure it stays secret.’ It was ours, and ours alone. Before long, we made it down to my cousin, and my sister was also there, crying her eyes out. She asked, ‘Were you out there playing alone all this time?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I was with her.’ But when I turned to point to my new friend, there was nobody there.”

At this final line, everyone’s faces froze, and a pall fell over the bus.

“I thought that maybe she’d run off on her own, but my sister had no memory of the girl. She said it’d just been the two of us playing, earlier.”

“You don’t mean…? No way…”

“I learned that for years there’d been cases of children getting spirited away in the area. Maybe the ghosts of children who’d died on the mountain were looking for friends? My sister was furious. She said I’d probably been seconds away from being snatched up and turned into a firefly myself… And when we went back to search, the next morning? The little path and the red torii gate were gone. Where did I really go that night, I wonder…?”

Asui’s typically detached tone suddenly took on an edge of terror.

“Eek!” yelped Jiro.

“Yikes, no way!” said Hagakure.

“If you’re gonna tell a spooky story, you gotta let us know from the start!” protested Uraraka. These three particular girls couldn’t stand scary stuff, and the color had drained from some of the boys’ faces, too, when the story had taken a turn from wholesome to terrifying.

“Great. And right when we’re about to camp in the woods…”

“I can’t do mountains, man… Don’t wanna get grabbed by the ghouls…”

“Oh? Was it that scary? My little brother loved this story,” said Asui matter-of-factly.

“All right, quiet down. The bus is about to stop,” growled Aizawa, who was good and awake now. The whole bus hushed, like a classroom at the chime of the bell.

The bus pulled over, but the turnoff had no rest stop, no bathrooms, nothing. Just mountains as far as the eye could see, not a building in sight.

“Get off now. Hurry up.”

At Aizawa’s urging, the kids started to get up, assuming this would be a brief pit stop to stretch their legs. Mineta fidgeted, in dire need of a bathroom after gulping down all his soda.

“Ughh…” said Aoyama, struggling to lift himself up.

“Well, Aoyama? Did my story help to distract you at all?” asked Asui.

“Not in the least, as I twinkle far brighter than any firefly…”

As he spoke, he brought out the mirror again and began to fix his hair.

“Right. Well, I admire your dedication to personal grooming, even when you’re queasy.”

“This is the only way I know how to be… Hmm? Hmm…?”

Still staring into the mirror, Aoyama bobbed his shoulders up and down and put one hand to his stomach.

“You good, Aoyama?” asked Ashido, noticing the change.

“Why, I seem to be cured. ☆”

He was looking less pale, and his trademark wink had regained its sparkle.

“Maybe because the bus stopped moving?” wondered Asui with a tilt of her head. Aoyama flashed his usual smug smile and wagged a slender finger side to side.

“Non, non. It is because I have viewed my own beautiful visage. ☆”

“Ugh. We were seriously worried, man.”

“I’m taking back my sympathy.”

The other kids were slightly irked at Aoyama’s miraculous recovery, and they made it known as they filed off the bus. Aoyama got off too, in his own detached, devil-may-care way. Hearing the others complain, a croaky laugh escaped from Asui.

“What’s up, Tsuyu?” asked Uraraka.

Asui found it all so charming. The word chain game, the quiz, the stories… Even the complaints directed at Aoyama were just proof that they all cared.

“Just thinking about how sweet everyone is.”

It hadn’t been even half a year since school had started, but the class had already spent plenty of rich, quality time together. This bus trip had revealed yet another side to their dynamics, and Asui was looking forward to the training camp to see what else might be revealed.

“I said, hurry,” grumbled Aizawa at Asui and Uraraka, who were the last ones to get off. They gazed up at the endless sky, marveled at the far-flung mountains, and sucked in the fresh air. The forest spreading below the turnoff was a dense, brilliant green. No, the members of class A—who were still thinking of this as an easygoing field trip—couldn’t possibly have imagined the trial that would await them just minutes later. Training camp would begin sooner than they knew.