◤ Turbulent ◢ k.bakugo

FIVE

A few of the others are already inside 1-A, gathered together in little groups to converse. You listen in on their conversations a bit but none of them interest you, they're all talking about the reporters harassing students when you beeline for your desk. All because All Might was teaching here now. You stare out the window as they continue on, drifting occasionally to your sister's whereabouts. Only when a green blob of curly hair plops down in the seat in front of you do you glance away from the window.

He lets out an exhausted sigh, the evidence of his wounds from the previous day nonexistent. He noticed you in his peripherals and twisted his torso slightly to chat. "Did the reporters bother you at all?"

You shake your head no, and answer him dryly. "I must've gotten lucky."

He takes you redirecting your gaze out the window as an end to the conversation, and twists back around to face the front. After everyone makes it inside the classroom, Iida's already waving his hand around telling everyone to take their seats. He just barely managed to seat himself before Aizawa stepped through the door with a set of papers in hand.

After stepping behind the desk, he doesn't waste any time. "Hope you're rested from yesterday's battle trial. I took the liberty of going over the individual reports."

"Decent work on yesterday's combat training, everyone." He begins, looking at a sheet of paper in his left hand. "I saw the video feeds and went over each of your teams results."

You want to sink into your seat and hide under the desk. The burn of second hand embarrassment was already making its way across the back of your neck. You know that your team will be mentioned first.

"Bakugo." Said blonds lip curls when Aizawa speaks his name. "You're talented so don't brood over your loss."

"Yeah, whatever." He replies arrogantly and turns to look out the window.

You can't help but roll your eyes.

"Midoriya."

Your broccoli-headed friend jumps like he's been electrocuted.

"I see the only way you won the match was by breaking your arm again. Work harder and quit giving me the excuse that you can't control it; that line is already getting old. Stop destroying yourself and you might actually be useful around here. Get your ass in gear already." Aizawa's approach was stern but left a message.

"Right." Midoriya replies nervously.

"On with business. Our first task: we'll decide your future." A cold chill changes the gravity in the room and your peers look around apprehensively. You can practically taste the dread in the air. "You'll be choosing a class representative."

The classroom lets out a sigh of relief before exploding into chaos. The cacophony of voices is overwhelming for you, so all you can do is watch. Kirishima's the loudest at first and the others swiftly jumped to their feet—even Bakugo's yelling about it. All of this is a good distraction from your turbulent thoughts so you can't help the small smile that graces your face. It only fades when Iida's directive voice quiets the crowd before the teacher has to do it himself.

"Silence, everyone!" To your surprise, they listen. "The class representative's duty is to lead others." He goes on a small tangent about logistics before landing on the decision to do it democratically by voting.

"Is this really the best idea?" Denki inquires out loud.

"What about the people who vote for themselves?" Kirishima follows up.

"Then it'll just be whoever has the most votes." Iida answers.

The engine-quirk user turns to ask Aizawa if it is a suitable way. The underground hero is already zipping up his sleeping bag and dismisses the question before rolling under his desk. "Just have it done by the time my nap's over."