Time for things to actually start happening.

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By the time the plane touched down, Bakugo was ready to blast someone. It really should be a crime to bring crying infants onto a crowded, inescapable metal prison. There had been two of them: one further up and the other was situated on its mother's lap across the aisle from him.

He flipped open the plastic window covering and winced against the bright sunlight.

When he found out the flight from Tokyo to New York was bordering on thirteen hours, he had planned to take a couple sleeping pills so that he could avoid dealing with jet lag only to realize too late that he had left them in one of his checked bags. Bakugo fought the yawn threatening to spread his maw and unbuckled the seatbelt, knowing full well he'd still be trapped next to the elderly American woman for another several minutes.

Eventually enough people filed out so that Bakugo could get up and leave. He passed by the crowd of people waiting to get on the next flight and started looking up at the directional signs. First thing's first, he needed to get to baggage claim and then to customs. Based on the pictures and arrows, Bakugo turned left and went straight until he hit the baggage carousel.

The large, heavy black suitcase was the first to come around followed soon after by his gym bag that was black with a thick orange X on it, reminiscent of his hero costume. Reaching into one of the deep pockets of his saggy cargo pants, Bakugo pulled out the pocket sized Japanese-English translation dictionary that Present Mic had given him before he left Japan. Despite doing well in English class, it wasn't enough for what he'd need during this exchange.

After comparing the words from the nearby signs to the dictionary, Bakugo moved on. It was relatively easy to find customs and, barring the irritating language barrier, easy to pass through. According to the instructions he was given, he was supposed to catch a train from somewhere in the airport that would take him closer to Bayville and from there, one of the teachers would pick him up.

Walking through the airport, Bakugo started to notice something. No one around him had a mutation quirk. Not that that actually meant anything, but it was strange and Bakugo didn't believe in coincidences. His suspicions only grew as he found the subway and bought the ticket. He couldn't see any quirk use. Even though citizens weren't technically allowed to use their quirk in public, it rarely stopped them completely.

The strangest thing happened a few stops into the trip. Bakugo chose his own seat and covered the one next to him with his luggage so that nobody would get any ideas about sitting there. Then some punk who couldn't read the huge "fuck off" written across the blonde's forehead decided to start something.

Frankly, Bakugo had no idea what the other guy was talking about, since he spoke too fast and used words that Bakugo hadn't learned yet, and his lack of response only served to agitate his aggressor. The moment a hand touched Bakugo's arm, he was done playing nice.

He kept it simple, only igniting small sparks in his right palm to get his point across, but was caught off guard by the punk's reaction. Normally, people catch a glimpse of his explosions and were smart enough to back off, but this guy's face turned an angry shade of red while he started yelling.

If it hadn't been for the promise he'd made to Nedzu to behave himself, at least until he got to the new school, he'd roast this loser, but anger was simmering beneath his skin and heating up to a boil. It was only after he noticed the other people in the subway car that he realized something was very wrong.

Minor quirk use in public was an inevitability and really didn't draw much attention, but these people were staring at him with something akin to abject horror. It was like they'd never seen a quirk before. Several of them stood, preparing to crowd him, but the train began to slow. A quick mental count of the stops let Bakugo know he needed to get off at the next station.

Wearing his nastiest sneer to warn off anyone from attempting a fight, he grabbed his luggage and shoved his way through the crowd. A few extra sparks kept the original instigator from grabbing at his shoulder or from trying to follow him out.

His red eyes scanned the platform, looking for the teacher that's supposed to be picking him up. According to what he looked up on the internet, Professor Xavier was bald and in a wheelchair. Should be easy enough to locate.

'Bakugo Katsuki.' The blonde was startled when he heard a man's voice in his head. Finally his gaze landed on two people moving in his direction. One was Professor Xavier and the other was a tall, dark skinned woman with white hair.

"Good morning, Bakugo. My name is Ororo, this is Professor Xavier, and we'd like to welcome you to our city." The teen inclined his head in acknowledgement, his expression smoothing out to its neutral resting bitch face.

"I've been informed that you have a basic understanding of English," the professor confirmed.

"Yes." Good enough to get by in normal day conversation, anyway. For anything else, he'll have to use his dictionary or, the bigger likelihood, he'll silently glare and pretend that he doesn't care enough to respond.

"Excellent. Before we go, do you have any questions about this exchange?"

Bakugo's immediate response was to say no before he remembered those people's reactions.

"I used my quirk, and the people acted like they had never seen a quirk before. Why?" Both adults shared a look before Ororo answered.

"I'm afraid that mutations aren't as accepted here as they are in Japan." She seemed apologetic, probably feeling bad for him since he didn't know the situation in America. His eyes were wide and lips parted.

"What?" Bakugo choked out in disbelief.

It was early afternoon when Kurt walked off the plane in Japan. Thankfully he had managed to sleep enough on the flight to escape the worst of the jet lag. He pressed the button against the black collar flexing against his throat and secured the wireless earpieces, visible despite the active image inducer. Walking over to the woman at the desk, he patiently waited for her attention.

"Excuse me, how do I find baggage claim?" When he spoke, he felt the words vocalize in a mesh of syllables that made little sense to him, but she seemed to understand what he said.

"Go right and just follow the signs. They'll lead you straight there." It was a strange to hear the Japanese words followed quickly by their English translation in his ears, but at least Kurt felt confident that the translation device was working.

The translator didn't do anything to help with reading Japanese, but Kurt was relieved that the signs were also written in English. He was so focused on finding his way that it took him awhile to notice how different this place was in comparison to home, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop seeing it.

There were people walking around with mutations, and no one was batting an eye. A man with large curling ram horns and lime green hair working on his laptop received no dirty looks. Nobody picked a fight with the teenage girl serving coffee because she had a second pair of arms.

He got so caught up in the obvious mutations that he had to backtrack when he accidentally walked past the path to baggage claim. Once he found the right carrousel, Kurt awkwardly stood amongst the other arrivals to wait for his duffle bag. When it came around, he grabbed it and tore the airline tag off before slinging it over his shoulder.

Cars were lined up outside the door. All Kurt knew was that someone was picking him up but didn't know who to look for. Glancing around, he finally saw a tall man leaning against a compact car holding a sign with his name on it, though the man himself was nothing like what Kurt expected. Dressed entirely in black leather, his blonde hair swooped up behind him and he wore yellow sunglasses and a strange speaker device around his neck.

The odd man looked up as Kurt approached.

"Wagner?" Holding back a wince at the pronunciation of his name, the teleporter nodded.

"Kurt is fine," he added, the translator successfully turning his words into Japanese, which seemed to catch the other off guard.

"Call me Present Mic. We didn't expect you to know Japanese." If anything, Mic seemed almost disappointed. Kurt gestured to his collar and earbuds.

"This is translating everything for me," he explained. While they talked, Mic popped the trunk for Kurt's bag, and they both got into the car.

"Fancy. I teach English at the school, so...if you need someone to speak normally to…" The teacher trailed off, and his lips formed a small pout as if his favorite toy was taken away. It sounded as though he was trying to defend his right to be there, and Kurt got the feeling that Mic had wanted the chance to show off his language fluency.

While he looked through the window and watched the scenery pass by, Kurt thought about those people he had seen.

"Hey, Present Mic," he started, waiting until he knew he the other's attention before continuing, "earlier I saw several people with their mutations out in the open, but nobody was bothering them about it." It wasn't a question, but the blonde hero understood what the teleporter was confused about.

"Well, you're really not supposed to go around using your quirk in public, but as long as it isn't hurting anyone, then officers tend to go easy on you," Mic explained.

"But no one cared that they were mutants," Kurt pushed to which Mic raised a brow.

"Mutants? Kind of a harsh way to put it."

"Why didn't anyone care?"

"Why would they? They're just quirks."

The teen felt like banging his head against the dash for all the circles they were going around.

"So the powers are called quirks?" Hopefully, starting at square one would help him figure out why Japan was already so different than New York.

"Of course."

"We just call them mutations," Kurt explained, glad that one confusion was cleared. "Back home, being a mutant, er, having a quirk is considered really bad. Most people hate us because of our powers."

Present Mic glanced over, moderately surprised. Growing up in a culture where quirked people made up over 80% of the population, it was a strange concept to believe that somewhere people discriminated against them. However, he supposed it wasn't that different to some attitudes regarding the quirkless.

"Well, you've got nothing to worry about here, listener. Having a quirk is completely natural in Japan, and being a hero is only going to make you that much more popular!" Mic only spared him a quick side-along glance to give a reassuring smile before he thankfully turned his attention back to the road. The way people drove here reminded Kurt a lot about the crazy driving back in Germany, and he wouldn't deny his hand was white knuckling the door handle as if that would prevent them from crashing.

Kurt hesitantly glanced at his reflection in the side mirror, taking in the pale skin that disguised his blue fur.

"Really?" he muttered nervously.

It's a little slow, but I promise it'll pick up.