Author's Note:

So... Yeah. My chapters are coming in slower now. My hyper-fixation is fading. I can foresee myself writing a new chapter every month or so, but I don't know. MHA is still a guilty pleasure of mine, and I am so happy that I could make you all happy, but this site is annoying me.

If I get one more unsolicited art ad, I'm going to scream.

So, please write a review. A real review. Doesn't even need to be for my story. The authors out here aren't getting the feedback that they need.

Anyway, now that that's off my chest, on with the story. God bless, and thank you for reading! You all have been awesome.

Chapter Thirty-Five : A Bunch a Friggin Furries

Clay already wasn't in a great mood. By the time leaving for the training camp went around, Clay's leg still wasn't up to snuff. It didn't hurt nearly as much, but Clay still walked with a limp, and not even a manly one. He just looked like a newly born giraffe. Plus, for some stupid reason, they were required to wear their school uniforms on the bus.

Class B was doing something nearby, but Clay didn't care. He just filed into the bus, ignoring the world around him despite Skipper tugging on his hair.

"Yeah… and so… Just wanted to thank you again…" Midoriya said, his body a little too close to Clay's.

"Huh?"

"You know, for helping me out at the mall?"

"Oh yeah," Clay said, forcing himself to turn his head. "Know for a fact you'd do the same for me."

Midoriya's face lit up, looking almost touched by the statement, but Clay didn't dwell on it. He was too busy dragging himself into his seat, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to find a position that didn't remind him of his messed-up leg. Skipper hopped onto his shoulder, tugging lightly on his hair again, broadcasting faint but persistent thoughts.

Limp. Not strong. Fix.

Clay sighed. "Nothin' to fix, buddy," he muttered under his breath. "It'll fix itself, or it won't. Just gotta live with it."

Midoriya, ever the worrywart, was still hovering nearby, clearly hesitant to leave Clay alone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just won't be the quick kind of hero," he muttered, seeing the other students excitedly pile in. Tsuyu hadn't been talking to him as much, and Clay had an idea why. Rumor was that somehow she'd heard some of the things his mom said about her. 'Froggy harlot', or, just as insultingly, paid by the school to keep Clay in Japan. Even if he had any experience at all with romance, he wouldn't even begin to know how to respond to it.

Midoriya nodded, but he still looked conflicted. "It's just… I don't know. You got hurt because of me."

Clay exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Ain't because of you," he corrected. "It's 'cause some creepy bastard with sandpaper lips don't know how to take a hint. Don't go thinkin' you owe me somethin'."

Midoriya opened his mouth, probably to argue, but he was cut off by Kirishima loudly calling from the next row, "Oi, Midoriya! Quit hoverin', man, let Clay breathe!"

Midoriya jumped slightly, then gave Clay one last sheepish look before finally backing off.

Clay let his head fall back against the seat with a sigh. Maybe he'd get some peace now.

…Of course, that's when Mina flopped into the seat across from him, grinning like she knew something.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "I heard from a little birdie that you and Tsu are still headin' to the U.S. after camp." There was a hint of restraint in her voice.

Clay's eye twitched. "That's the idea…"

Mina's grin didn't waver, but there was something else there—something measured. "And you're still sure about that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Clay frowned. "Wouldn't be plannin' it if I wasn't."

Mina hummed, tapping her fingers against the seat. "Yeah, but… don't you think things have been kinda weird since your mom called?"

Clay stiffened. He didn't answer immediately, but Mina didn't need him to. She could see it all over his face. She could see it in the way that Skipper was trying to comfort Clay by remaining a weight on his shoulder.

"I mean," she continued, keeping her tone light, "Tsu's been a little… distant, don'tcha think?"

Clay sighed, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, I noticed."

Mina leaned in, her usual playfulness dimmed. "Look, I'm not trying to get in your business, but, like… she heard what your mom said about her."

"Yeah, I figured."

"She's hurt, Clay."

Clay paused for a while, his eyes fixed to the seat in front of him. Ochaco and Midoriya were settling in. Clay knew anything he said to Mina now was something he might as well say to Ochaco at this point, and therefore Tsuyu.

"Can't rightfully say I blame her."

Mina must've noticed his hesitation because she sighed dramatically, flopping back against her seat. "Boys are so dumb," she muttered, before turning back to him. "Look, just… talk to her, okay? Clear the air before this trip turns into one big awkward mess."

Clay exhaled slowly, staring out the window. Skipper twitched on his shoulder, his small mind pulsing with concern.

"…Yeah," he muttered. "I'll talk to her."

Mina nodded, satisfied. "Good."

The bus ride continued, the other students chatting excitedly about the training camp ahead. But Clay barely heard any of it. His mind was stuck on the one conversation he hadn't had yet—and how the hell he was supposed to start it.

He didn't know for sure how Tsuyu found out. His best guess is that someone heard something they shouldn't have and then told her. There was a plentiful list of suspects, but Jiro was the best one.

He rolled his head over the isle, seeing Bakugo sulking. "I could use a smoke," he muttered.

Bakugo barely acknowledged him at first, eyes locked on the window as if he were trying to glare the trees into submission. Then, without turning his head, he scoffed. "Tch. You don't even smoke."

Clay exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting in his seat. "Ain't sayin' I do," he muttered. "Just sayin' I could use one."

For a second, Bakugo didn't respond. Then, he finally turned his head, red eyes narrowing. "Why are you talking to me? I don't care about you."

"Well," Clay said, shifting his bum leg uncomfortably. "I guess I don't mind talkin' to someone who don't treat me like I'm dyin'."

"I hate you."

Clay rolled his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Skipper twitched on his shoulder, clearly unsettled by his mood, but Clay just reached up and idly scratched the little guy's head. His mind was spinning too fast to focus on much of anything—Tsuyu, his mother, the fact that this trip was supposed to be fun but was already shaping up to be a damn headache.

His gut twisted uncomfortably. He needed to talk to Tsuyu. And soon.

But the words still felt stuck in his throat. What was anyone supposed to say?

He finally grabbed Skipper, holding him on his lap for a while.

Talk. Tsu. Talk.

"Can't. Don't know how."

Bakugo let out a low, irritated grunt. "Tch. You're pathetic."

Clay cracked one eye open to glare at him. "You always this helpful?"

"Yeah," Bakugo said flatly. "Figure your own shit out, dumbass."

Clay sighed, letting his head thunk back against the seat again. As much as he wanted to tell Bakugo to piss off, the guy had a point. Sitting around sulking about it wasn't gonna fix anything.

Skipper shifted in his lap, his tiny paws kneading the fabric of Clay's uniform pants.

Fix. Talk.

Clay ran a hand through his hair. He pressed his eyes shut, and through Skipper's eyes he could see her sitting alone towards the front of the bus, almost as still as Aizawa's sleeping form.

"You can go check on her if you want, Skip," he muttered.

Skipper twitched in his lap, his tiny ears flicking as he processed Clay's words. Then, without hesitation, the little rat scurried up Clay's arm, hopped onto the seat, and took off down the aisle, weaving between the students' feet with practiced ease.

Clay kept his head against the seat, eyes shut, but through Skipper's eyes, he could see everything—the steady bounce of the bus, the occasional swinging of a leg, the blurred colors of uniforms as the rat zipped past his classmates.

And then, he reached her.

Tsuyu sat near the front, her posture calm, hands resting in her lap. She wasn't talking to anyone, just staring quietly out the window, the scenery passing by in a blur. To anyone else, she probably looked like she was just relaxing. Clay knew better. She might as well have been in crisis mode.

Skipper hesitated at her feet, then, with a quiet squeak, climbed up onto the empty seat beside her.

Tsuyu blinked, glancing down. "Skipper?" she murmured.

Through Skipper's senses, Clay felt the small weight of her hand gently brushing against the rat's head. A familiar warmth, soft and careful.

She hadn't stopped caring… about Skipper, anyway.

Clay let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling of the bus. His fingers idly tapped against his thigh as he focused on what Skipper was feeling—the warmth of Tsuyu's fingers, the slow rise and fall of his little chest as she sighed. She wasn't pushing Skipper away. That was something.

Still, Clay didn't move. He didn't shift in his seat or try to stand up and limp his way toward her. He wasn't sure if he was just being stubborn or if the tight feeling in his chest was something else.

What was he even supposed to say?

Sorry my mom's a lunatic?

Sorry she called you a harlot and thinks you were paid to like me?

Sorry I dragged you into my mess?

Tsuyu wasn't stupid. She'd already figured out the truth on her own. Clay wasn't sure if any of those words would actually fix things.

Skipper, ever the persistent little rodent, let out a small, chittering noise, broadcasting something soft and insistent into Clay's mind.

Talk. Fix.

Clay swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. Maybe he could wait until they got to camp. Maybe he could pull her aside, away from the others. Maybe—

Skipper bit Tsuyu's sleeve and tugged.

"What is it, Skipper?" she murmured, tilting her head slightly.

Clay clenched his jaw.

He couldn't keep dodging this.

With a quiet groan, he finally pulled himself upright, wincing as his bad leg protested. He muttered a curse under his breath, but he still forced himself to stand.

Bakugo shot him a look from across the aisle. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Something dumb," Clay muttered.

Mina perked up as soon as she noticed him moving, her eyes practically sparkling with interest. "Ohhh, finally decided to be brave?"

"Shut up," Clay grumbled, gripping the seat backs for support as he made his way forward.

Step by step, he made his way toward the front of the bus, toward Tsuyu.

Toward whatever conversation was about to happen. He'd never seen Tsuyu hurt like this. He didn't even know it was possible.

"This lily pad taken?"

Tsuyu turned her head slightly, her wide, unblinking eyes meeting Clay's. There was no anger there—no outward sign of hurt or resentment—but there was something different. Something subdued.

Clay shifted his weight, wincing as his leg reminded him of its current state. Tsuyu's eyes flickered down, barely for a second, but it was enough to tell him she was still worried, even if she wasn't saying it outright.

Skipper, still sitting beside her, twitched his nose expectantly. His little paws pressed into the fabric of her sleeve as he turned to look between them.

Fix.

Clay sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mind if I sit?"

Tsuyu studied him for a long moment before she finally nodded. "Go ahead, ribbit."

Clay eased himself into the seat with a quiet grunt, stretching his bad leg out carefully. For a while, neither of them said anything. The murmur of the other students filled the silence, but between the two of them, it felt heavy. He hated that the students nearby ceased their chatter. It was like he was on some damn reality TV show.

Skipper chittered softly and hopped onto Clay's lap, kneading at his pants like he was trying to physically force words out of him.

Clay took a slow breath, then finally spoke.

"So…" he started, voice low. "Guessin' you heard what my ma said."

Tsuyu's fingers twitched slightly in her lap. "Ribbit."

Clay grimaced, looking down at his hands. "Yeah… That's what I was thinkin'." Another pause. "Jiro?"

"Ribbit."

The silence stretched again, but Tsuyu was patient. She always had been. She wasn't going to make this easier for him—wasn't going to let him off the hook. It would be the verbal equivalent of double-texting a woman he was interested in. He knew that double-texting was not the play… for some reason. But what else could he do?

"She's outta line sayin' stuff like that," he muttered. "She don't know you. Don't know nothin' about what we've been through or how we got here."

Tsuyu tilted her head slightly. "But she knows you, ribbit."

Clay swallowed. "Yeah… She does."

"That's why it hurt."

The words were quiet. Not accusing, not angry. Just… honest. But still, better than nothing.

Clay clenched his fists. "I defended you."

"I know."

"I wouldn't ever—"

"I know, Clay."

He looked up then, finally meeting her eyes again. She wasn't looking away this time.

"She's scared, ribbit," Tsuyu said simply. "She's afraid of losing you."

"Yeah… Possums either play dead or attack when cornered… Guess she's attackin'."

Tsuyu let the silence sit for a moment longer before she shifted, her hands resting lightly against her knees. "I know you didn't agree with what she said," she continued, her voice steady. "But hearing it still hurt."

Clay's throat felt tight. "Bet it did… I mean… I know."

Tsuyu turned back toward the window, her voice quieter. "And I guess… I needed to hear you say that."

Clay felt like an idiot. Like he should've known that from the start. He had spent so much time trying to figure out what to say, and all she really needed was for him to acknowledge it.

Slowly, he reached out, hesitating for just a second before lightly tapping the back of her hand with his fingers. Not quite holding it—just there, just enough.

"Sorry, Tsu."

Tsuyu glanced at their hands, then back at him.

She nodded once. "At least your brother likes me. Ribbit."

It wasn't a grand declaration, and it wasn't a magical fix. But it was real.

Skipper let out a pleased squeak, nuzzling against both their hands like he had been the one to solve all their problems.

Tsuyu let out a soft chuckle. "You worry too much, ribbit."

Clay let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "I stand to lose a lot." It was almost funny. He was more worried about Tsuyu than his leg.

The bus rumbled forward, the chatter of their classmates filling the space around them. But for the first time in days, Clay felt lighter.

"Should I still come to the U.S.?"

It was a tough question. How could he ask someone else to go to Hell with him. So this time, he was silent.

Tsuyu studied him, her expression as unreadable as ever. That was one thing about her—she never gave away too much. It made moments like this even harder, where Clay wanted to know exactly what she was thinking but couldn't bring himself to ask outright.

She turned back to the window, watching the blur of trees pass by. "I don't know, ribbit," she admitted, her voice softer than before.

Clay's stomach twisted. He had expected that answer, but hearing it still stung.

"Wouldn't think any less of ya if you stayed," Clay murmured.

More silence.

Skipper twitched between them, his tiny paws tapping against Clay's sleeve. He was still listening, still watching, still waiting.

More silence.

Skipper twitched between them, his tiny paws tapping against Clay's sleeve. He was still listening, still watching, still waiting.

"I know." Clay thought he saw her hand twitch. "Your mother might."

"She ain't the one that paid for the tickets," Clay said, already feeling like he said too much.

Another pause.

She looked back out the window. "I wanted to go."

Clay's breath stopped.

Past tense.

"Fair."

Before Clay could say anything else, a loud thud interrupted the moment as Mina flopped dramatically over the back of their seat, a huge grin splitting her face.

"Oh my god, finally!" she exclaimed, loud enough to make Clay wince.

"Ashido! Sit down! We're on a moving bus!" Iida called.

Tsuyu turned her head slightly, blinking. "Mina?"

Mina waved her hands in the air like she was conducting a symphony. "You two! Talking! Communicating! Expressing your feelings! I'm so proud!"

Clay let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing his temples. "You were eavesdroppin', weren't you? You're 'bout as bad as Jiro."

Mina placed a hand over her heart, feigning offense. "Clay, how could you say that? I would never—"

"You were literally crouched behind the seat the whole time," Tsuyu pointed out.

Mina straightened up instantly, looking at Tsuyu with newfound admiration. "You knew? And you didn't say anything?"

Clay could've said the same thing about Skipper. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Mina, what do you want?"

"Oh, I don't want anything," Mina said, wiggling her eyebrows. "But I think you want to hear what Tsu has to say next."

"Even I know that's outta line, Mina."

Tsuyu was quiet for a moment, but there was something different now—a kind of steadiness in her posture, a decision made.

"I still want to go," she said simply.

Clay blinked, unsure if he had actually heard that right. "You do?"

Tsuyu nodded. "I was always going for you, ribbit. And if you're still asking… then my answer hasn't changed."

Mina squealed, clapping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, I knew it! Clay, do you see what happens when you just talk to people?"

Clay was still processing what had just happened, but he shot Mina a glare. "Mina, I swear, if you don't get back to your seat—"

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you lovebirds alone," she teased, bouncing away before Clay could throw something at her, such as a live rat.

"Least you'll always know what ma's thinkin'."

Tsuyu hummed in agreement, then glanced back at Clay. "We'll figure it out together, ribbit."

Clay nodded, feeling something in his chest finally settle. "Yeah. We will."

Skipper squeaked approvingly.

"Besides," Tsuyu said, the faint beginnings of a smile on her lips. "you said the tickets were non-refundable, ribbit."

Clay snorted. "Was that… a joke?"

Tsuyu blinked at him, her expression as deadpan as ever. "Ribbit."

Clay stared for a moment, trying to figure out if she was messing with him or not. Then, to his own surprise, he let out a laugh—low and tired, but real. It was the first real laugh he had since losing part of his leg.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the bus rolling steadily down the road. Skipper, satisfied that his work was done, curled up on Clay's lap, his tiny body rising and falling with soft breaths.

From a few seats back, Mina gave them a double thumbs-up. Clay rolled his eyes, but he didn't bother telling her off this time.

Tsuyu was still looking at him, her expression unreadable but calm. "I love you, Clay."

The words, being so few yet so strong, rang against Clay's ears. It was the best thing he could have heard.

Clay was about to return the gesture, but Aizawa was standing up. For some reason, Clay barely cared that he could have heard everything. Relief was relief was relief.

When it was revealed that they had just arrived to the rest stop, Clay suddenly found the sunshine most welcome.

"So, we're just finished with our first semester?" Clay asked, lifting something from what someone else said.

"You didn't know that?" Momo asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you think you've been here for a year?"

"I donno, it's Japan, man," Clay said, whipping his head around. He saw something in the woods. He could hardly comprehend what he said.

"Jumpin' Juniper, that's a bunch of friggin' furries!"