Chapter Twenty-Nine : Final Exams Part Three
The morning of the big day started out well enough. With the exam not starting until 10:00, the students had plenty of time to prepare. Some took advantage of the extra hours to sleep in, while Midoriya was huddled in a corner, frantically going over his notes. Bakugo lounged off to the side, managing to be annoyingly present without saying a word.
Clay, however, had settled outside his room, a rag in hand as he meticulously oiled his father's shotgun to a perfect, dull shine. Tsuyu sat across from him, her back comfortably against the wall as she watched him with calm interest.
"I thought you cleaned it last night, ribbit," she said.
"I did, and I remember it well. Do you?"
"You threatened Kirishima when he said 'clip' instead of 'magazine.' It was borderline abusive."
Clay smirked, shaking his head. "And what happened just after?"
"Kirishima hit you on the head, and you tackled him. Then you both laughed about it."
"Well, there you go."
Tsuyu hummed softly in response, her gaze flicking briefly to the shotgun before meeting his eyes. "Does it help you focus, ribbit?"
"Somethin' like that," Clay admitted, pausing his work to meet her gaze. "It's a way to settle my nerves, I guess. Puts me in the mind of a lawman."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the faint hum of the dorm's ventilation system filling the space. Skipper scurried up from the floor, hopping onto Clay's shoulder with a curious squeak, his tiny nose twitching as he inspected the shotgun.
"Alright, Skip," Clay muttered with a grin, giving the rat a gentle nudge. "No stunts today, alright? Don't need you upstagin' me during the exam."
"Ribbit," Tsuyu said softly, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "He'd probably do better than some of the others."
"Not gonna argue with that," Clay said, his chuckle fading into a thoughtful quiet as he resumed his work. The tension of the day ahead lingered, but for now, this moment of stillness—shared with Tsuyu and his memories—was enough.
"Class 1-A!" Iida boomed, his voice still having an endearing unpleasantness to it. "Please proceed to the shuttle in an orderly manner! Equip your hero costumes if you have not done so already!"
For Clay, it wasn't much of an issue. All he had to do was grab his bandanna and slap his hat on his head. He lowered his arm so Skipper could scurry up to his shoulder, then flashed a soft smile at Tsuyu.
"If you can make it past this, you might stand a chance against ma," he said, chuckling as he thumped on Sero's door a few times before heading toward the main doors.
Sero's muffled voice groaned from behind the door. "Alright, alright! I'm coming!" A loud thud followed, likely the result of him tripping over whatever chaos his room had become during exam prep.
Tsuyu adjusted her own gear with practiced efficiency, her steady gaze following Clay as he walked toward the main doors. She fell into step beside him, her calm presence grounding him more than he'd ever admit.
The front room of the dormitory buzzed with the nervous energy of students donning their hero costumes, adjusting gadgets, and double-checking their equipment. Kaminari bounded past, his usual excitement dimmed just slightly by the weight of the day.
"You look like you're headed to a rodeo, cowboy," he called back with a grin.
Clay tipped his hat in mock acknowledgment, his smirk laced with good-natured sarcasm. "I'll take you to one someday, I'll make a man out of you yet."
The shuttle ride was short and mostly quiet, the occasional murmur of conversation drifting through the air, but no one seemed particularly invested in speaking.
"It's just going to be some robots," Mina squeaked from her seat, her voice high and eager. "Barely any hassle!"
Momo shook her head, arms crossed, sitting near the front of the shuttle with a composed air. "If it's something we expect, it's unlikely to be the entirety of our exam."
Clay leaned forward in his seat, occasionally passing Skipper between his hands like a handwarmer, the rat curling contentedly in his grip.
Ochaco was talking about her phone acting weird, Midoriya was still absorbed in his notebook, muttering under his breath as he reviewed his notes. Kaminari, meanwhile, was practically vibrating in his seat, his energy restless as the shuttle came to a stop.
"That's us…" Clay muttered, adjusting Skipper on his shoulder and slinging his shotgun onto his back. The familiar weight of it was comforting, but the tension ahead was unmistakable.
"Class 1-A! Maintain focus and composure!" he barked, his stern demeanor earning a few muttered complaints from the group.
"Relax, boss," Clay drawled, leaning casually against the shuttle's frame. "Ain't nobody fallin' apart yet."
Iida gave him a sharp look but moved on, clearly unwilling to engage in banter when there was order to maintain.
Clay wasn't feeling too bad until he saw the group of instructors standing outside the building. They were all there—Aizawa, Midnight, Thirteen, Present Mic, and some guy in a trench coat who looked like he might flash everyone at any second. There was also a gremlin-looking guy with an excavator bucket on his head, a future-cowboy, Principal Nezu casually perched on Aizawa's shoulder, and Cementoss, standing with the poise of a monk.
"Welcome, students!" Nezu's chipper voice cut through the air, completely at odds with the heavy tension around them. "You may have been wondering what your practical exam will entail! Today will test your combat abilities, your decision-making, teamwork, and coolness under pressure!"
His smile widened, and for a moment, Clay almost found it cute… if it weren't for the fact that what he was saying was damned scary.
"What does that mean for you?" Nezu continued, his voice almost too cheery. "You students will be working in pairs against one of our esteemed teachers!"
A heavy silence settled over the students, and Clay shifted the weight of his gun sling, feeling the pressure mounting. He had mixed feelings about drilling Aizawa with a beanbag round, but if he was paired up against him, a shotgun was one Quirk Aizawa wouldn't be able to erase.
There was more talking, but it all blurred into the background as Clay's mind raced through potential strategies. His eyes flicked over the instructors, weighing the possibilities. If he were paired with Present Mic, he was screwed—no doubt about it. Thirteen, Midnight, and Aizawa knew him too well, and fighting them would be tricky.
Cementoss was still something of an unknown; Clay only had a vague idea of what the hero could do. That left the gremlin-looking guy, the trench-coated man who seemed to be one beer and some poor judgement away from flashing everyone, and the future-cowboy as the wildcards.
Clay's gaze slid toward Midoriya, who was muttering frantically to his notebook, no doubt trying to analyze every potential scenario. A small smirk tugged at the corner of Clay's lips. Any of this in your notebook? he thought to himself.
"Your partners and opponents have already been chosen at my discretion," Aizawa droned, his voice flat and unaffected. "Based on grades, fighting styles, and your personal relationships, and other factors."
Clay would've much preferred if the pairings were random. Instead, Aizawa listed them off one by one, his voice unwavering as he named the teams: Midoriya and Bakugo, paired against All Might. As if on cue, All Might soared through the air, his cape billowing behind him like some heroic apparition. He landed with a resounding thump that rattled the ground beneath them. Clay was certain he could see cracks where he landed.
Clay, however, could have been the only one who didn't flinch at the force of it. He was barely paying attention. He already had a feeling on who his partner would be, so it was really just a question of who him and Mineta would be paired up against.
The suspense built as Aizawa's voice cut through the group, listing team after team. Clay's gaze stayed fixed ahead, his posture relaxed despite the weight of the moment. Skipper adjusted himself on Clay's shoulder, his tiny nose twitching as if sensing the tension in the air.
"Clayton Derreks and Minoru Mineta," Aizawa announced, not even sparing the pair a glance. "You'll be facing Midnight."
"Of course…" Clay muttered. He didn't dare look at her when the win conditions were listed. Put the cuffs on your opponent, or escape.
Tsuyu was paired up with the bird-headed guy against the trench-coat guy, and Clay felt pretty confident about her chances. Tokoyami's strong Quirk paired with Tsuyu's adaptability made them a solid team—arguably one of the most adaptable heroes at U.A., second only to Momo.
Clay found himself watching the first matchup, Sero and Kirishima versus Cementoss. It was painfully one-sided, with Cementoss easily handling their combined efforts. Clay shook his head, muttering under his breath, "You and Tokoyami are smarter than that."
"Ribbit." Tsuyu's voice came softly from beside him, acknowledging his thoughts without missing a beat.
Clay's attention was pulled away when he felt a gloved hand gently brush against his cheek. He glanced over to see Tsuyu's wide, curious eyes locked on him.
"Tsu, I told you I want to wait until marriage," he said with a dry snort, trying to lighten the moment.
A faint blush crept up Tsuyu's cheeks, and she shook her head softly, her voice carrying a playful edge. "Your mustache, ribbit."
Clay raised a hand, feeling just above his mustache, where he discovered a few stray hairs that were longer and sturdier than the rest. "Huh," he said, pulling out his phone and leaning in to inspect his reflection. "Look at that, Skipper. Looks like I've got whiskers over my whiskers…"
Skipper squeaked softly, tilting his head as if assessing Clay's newfound "whiskers." Clay scratched the rat's ears absentmindedly, his grin widening as he pocketed his phone. "Guess I'm gonna have to start groomin' like you, buddy."
Tsuyu's lips curved into the faintest smile, her earlier blush still lingering. "It suits you, ribbit," she said simply before turning her attention back to the ongoing match. "I think you've leveled-up."
"You think so? As long as you'd still love me if my rat transformation continues…"
Mineta, who had been standing nearby and looking increasingly like a man sentenced to his doom, groaned loudly. "You're cracking jokes about facial hair? We're about to get destroyed by Midnight!"
"Relax," Clay said, his tone easy as he twirled his newfound whiskers with his finger. "I got a plan."
"You have a plan?" Mineta repeated, his voice skeptical and slightly shrill.
"Sure do," Clay replied, though his grin did little to reassure his pint-sized partner.
"What is it?"
"Don't panic."
"That's not a plan!" Mineta wailed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Clay chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back slightly. "Well, it's step one. We'll figure out step two when we see what Midnight's got up her sleeve."
Mineta whimpered, his expression a mixture of dread and resignation.
"You're actin' like I don't have a shotgun," Clay said with a chuckle, his grin widening.
"Every American has a shotgun!" Mineta squeaked, his voice rising in panic. "We're gonna lose, and it's because you don't care!"
Clay shook his head, casting a soft glance at Tsuyu before responding. "Don't know why you're so torn up about it," he said, his tone calm but teasing. "You win either way. You either get to go to summer camp, or if we lose, Midnight breaks you like a pony. You'd be okay with that, right?"
Mineta froze mid-whimper, his expression shifting from abject terror to something uncomfortably close to intrigue. "Wait... you think she'd actually—"
"Focus, Mineta," Tsuyu cut in, her calm voice managing to carry a sharp edge. Her wide eyes flicked briefly toward Clay, as if silently reminding him not to encourage their teammate's more questionable tendencies.
Clay laughed slightly, grinning at Tsuyu before looking back to Mineta. "She's not gonna break you. She's gonna break me," he said, the humor in his voice still present but underscored by something steadier. "If you wanna avoid bein' stuck here while everyone's at camp, pump those little legs to the exit while I hold her off. She's taken a likin' to me. I don't know why. Fate is cruel."
Tsuyu stood up from the bench. "It's my turn," she said steadily.
Clay stood up with her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Don't win too quickly. Wouldn't want it to get boring."
Tsuyu blinked, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as her wide eyes flicked up to meet his. "Ribbit," she replied simply, though the corner of her lips twitched in a small smile.
"Good luck, Tsu," Clay said, his voice softer now as he tipped his hat to her.
"You should talk to Midoriya," she replied, her tone calm but carrying a quiet confidence. "He might know what your whiskers mean. He's probably watching too, so you won't miss anything." She turned and walked toward the arena with Tokoyami at her side, leaving Clay and Mineta to prepare for their own challenge.
Clay watched Tsuyu walk away, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. He adjusted his shotgun sling, letting out a low sigh before turning to Mineta. "Stay put, alright? Don't get yourself into any trouble before our turn."
Mineta just whimpered, plopping down on the bench and muttering something about his impending doom.
Clay shook his head and set off in search of Midoriya. It didn't take long to find him; he was seated near the edge of the observation deck, his notebook open as always, scribbling furiously. His muttering was barely audible, but Clay caught snippets of hero stats and strategy notes as he approached.
"Hey, Midoriya," Clay called softly, not wanting to startle him.
Midoriya's head shot up, his eyes wide and alert. "Oh! Clay! Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Clay replied, waving a hand dismissively as he took a seat beside him. "Just... got somethin' weird goin' on, and I thought you might have some… knowledge on it."
Midoriya tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his expression. "Weird? Like with your Quirk?"
Clay nodded, running a hand over his chin. "Kinda. It's these whiskers. Showed up recently, outta nowhere."
Midoriya's eyes lit up with a mix of intrigue and focus, his pen already poised over the notebook. "Whiskers? Like actual physical ones?"
"Yep. Right here," Clay said, pointing to the small but noticeable growth near his upper lip. "Ain't never had 'em before. Thought maybe it's tied to my Quirk somehow, but I don't know what it means. Tsu's the one that caught 'em."
Midoriya leaned closer, examining the whiskers intently. "Interesting... Have you noticed any changes in your Quirk recently? Anything that feels different or stronger than usual?"
Clay shrugged. "Not really. Feels the same as always. Rats're still doin' their thing, no problem," he said, raising an arm and spawning a few rats to show everything was normal. They scurried up and down his arm, one fading away after playfully batting Skipper with their tail.
Midoriya tapped his pen against his chin, his muttering picking up speed. "It could be a secondary manifestation... or maybe an environmental factor... or even something tied to your emotional state..."
Clay chuckled, shaking his head. "You thinkin' it's some kinda sign I'm evolvin' or somethin'?"
Midoriya blinked, then nodded enthusiastically. "It's possible! Some Quirks develop new traits over time, especially if the user is under stress or experiencing rapid growth. Have you been pushing yourself more lately?"
"Can't say I haven't," Clay admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But stress… Internship with Midnight'll do that to ya."
Midoriya scribbled something in his notebook, his excitement contagious. "It might be worth testing further after exams. If it's connected to your Quirk, it could give you a new edge in combat!"
Clay smirked, his gaze drifting toward the arena where Tsuyu and Tokoyami were preparing for their turn. "Thanks, Midoriya. You're always a help. Now let's see how Tsu handles that trench-coat guy."
Midoriya nodded, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. He seemed a bit more concerned with the whiskers than anything else. "Tsu will do okay. She's adaptable."
"Damn right," Clay muttered, leaning forward as the buzzer signaled the start of their match.