Chapter Thirty-Three : An Encounter At The Mall
The news that everyone was going to camp, including those who had failed the practical exam, didn't come as a surprise to Clay. At U.A., students who fell behind were usually punished with more training, not less. What did surprise him, however, was hearing that Mineta had failed. Sure, Mineta hadn't done anything of real consequence during the exam, but he'd at least tried—more effort than Clay would have expected from him.
When the news broke, Clay didn't bother turning his head, but Skipper did, his small body shifting slightly on Clay's shoulder.
Surprised… Sad…
The fragmented thoughts from Skipper's mind echoed faintly in Clay's head. It was still strange—he wasn't quite used to the sensation yet—but knowing that his quirk seemed to be evolving brought him a quiet sense of comfort.
Clay's mind was more occupied with thoughts of the trip he and Tsuyu would take to Deercrown when the floating pile of clothes—better known as Hagakure—excitedly suggested that they all go to the mall together.
It wasn't a bad idea for Clay to tag along. He hadn't exactly imagined he'd need swim trunks anytime soon, but with the camp on the horizon, it was becoming clear that he would.
The idea of a trip to the mall wasn't something that filled Clay with excitement, but practicality overrode his usual reluctance for group outings to unfamiliar places. He couldn't exactly show up to camp in jeans and a button-down shirt, especially if swimming or other water-related activities were in the cards. Plus, the prospect of seeing Tsuyu in a more relaxed, casual setting made it easier to say yes.
Skipper tilted his tiny head toward Clay, his whiskers twitching.
Shopping? Clothes? Food?
Clay smirked slightly, hearing the faint echo of his companion's thoughts. "We'll grab somethin' for ya," he muttered under his breath, earning a curious glance from Kaminari, who was seated nearby.
"What's that, cowboy?" Kaminari asked, stretching his arms over his head.
"Nothin'," Clay replied smoothly, flicking a glance toward the floating clothes pile that was Hagakure. She was still animatedly chatting about stores they could visit, clearly thrilled by the prospect of a group outing.
The rest of Class 1-A seemed to warm to the idea quickly, the room buzzing with chatter about what they needed to buy. Mina was already listing off a series of stores she wanted to hit, and Sero and Kirishima were enthusiastically nodding along, chiming in with suggestions. Even Bakugo, though visibly disinterested, didn't immediately storm off—perhaps the idea of grabbing gear for the camp wasn't a complete waste of his time, though he did have to mention that the event sounded 'annoying' at least twice.
Clay leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He caught a glimpse of Tsuyu sitting quietly near the corner of the room, her fingers resting lightly against her chin as she listened to Hagakure's plan. She didn't say much, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes—a sign that, like Clay, she was resigned to going along with the group.
"Fine," Clay drawled, his voice cutting through the noise as he stood up. "Let's get this over with. Y'all take me to some frou-frou place, though, an' I'm sittin' outside."
"Relax, Clay, we're not dragging you to some boutique," Mina teased, grinning as she gestured for him to follow. "But you better not just grab the first thing you see. Camp means survival and style!"
Clay sighed, running a hand through his hair as he trailed after the group. "Style ain't what keeps you from gettin' heatstroke in the woods," he muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Sero. It seemed weird to Clay that the people who failed the exam seemed to be the most excited. Perhaps it was relief.
The journey to the mall was as lively as expected, with the class splitting off into smaller groups to browse their favorite stores. Clay stuck close to Kirishima and Sero, who were determined to help him find "the perfect swim trunks." He would have preferred to stay with Tsuyu, but the first sign of walking into a store meant for women was too much for him, so he stuck with the men. They dragged him into a shop with bold, flashy patterns on display—flamingos, pineapples, and colors that made Clay's eyes hurt just looking at them.
"What about this one?" Kirishima asked, holding up a pair of neon green trunks with a garish palm tree design.
Clay raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Brother, you've lost your damn mind." Skipper squeaked in agreement from his perch on Clay's shoulder.
"Okay, okay, what about these?" Sero chimed in, holding up a pair with a slightly less offensive navy blue design, dotted with small white fish.
Clay shrugged. "Better. Less like a middle school art project."
Nearby, Tsuyu wandered through a rack of swimwear with Ochaco, occasionally glancing toward Clay's group with a faint smile. Skipper perched on Clay's shoulder, twitching his nose as his tiny mind broadcasted fragments of approval and curiosity.
Good. Simple. Blue nice.
Clay chuckled softly at Skipper's commentary, shaking his head. "Yeah, blue's fine," he muttered, grabbing the navy trunks and tossing them over his shoulder.
By the time they regrouped at the food court, Clay had more than swim trunks in his bag—thanks to Tsuyu's occasional prodding, he'd also picked up a lightweight T-shirt and sandals, both practical and mercifully plain.
"Are… all Americans like this?" Mina groaned, holding up a plain light brown T-shirt from Clay's bag. "Where's the flair? It's just so… boring!"
"Modest is hottest," Clay said, taking his hat off as he sat down for his bowl of Ramen. Skipper was already drinking the complimentary miso soup like a rabid animal.
Mina groaned dramatically, throwing herself into her chair as if Clay's lack of style physically pained her. "You're impossible, cowboy. You could've at least gotten something with a logo! Or maybe a splash of color? Something that says, 'I have taste!'"
Tsuyu, who had been quietly eating her ramen, glanced up and croaked softly, drawing the table's attention. "I think simple is fine," she said, her tone calm and steady. Her wide eyes flicked to Clay for a moment before returning to her bowl. "It suits him, ribbit."
Mina groaned again, though there was a hint of a grin tugging at her lips. "You're all hopeless!"
Skipper, meanwhile, was attracting a small crowd as he aggressively slurped up the remnants of the miso soup, tiny droplets splashing onto the table. Ochaco leaned in, watching with a mix of fascination and concern. "He… uh, really likes soup, doesn't he?"
Clay chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin before reaching out to nudge Skipper's bowl away gently. "Yeah, but if he gets too much salt, he gets cranky. Ain't that right, Skip?"
The little rat paused mid-slurp to glare at Clay, his thoughts faint but pointed.
No talk. Soup.
Clay smirked. "Sure thing, buddy."
As the group continued eating and chatting, the lively atmosphere of the food court buzzed around them. Mina was already plotting their next stop, talking animatedly with Ochaco about accessories, while Sero and Kirishima debated the best kind of shoes for camp.
Clay found himself relaxing into the chaos, enjoying the rare moment of camaraderie. He wasn't much for malls or crowds, but being surrounded by his classmates—Tsuyu occasionally glancing his way, Skipper contentedly nibbling on a rice cracker—made it all worthwhile.
Occasionally, members of the public would recognize the students and approach with differing levels of tact and hesitation.
A woman in her mid-thirties approached first, clutching her purse tightly and wearing a nervous smile. She stopped a few feet from the table, glancing between the students as if trying to confirm their identities. "Excuse me," she began tentatively, her voice soft. "Are you… U.A. students?"
Mina perked up immediately, grinning as she leaned forward. "Yep, that's us! Future heroes in training!"
The woman's face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful! My son is such a big fan of U.A.! He talks about you all the time." She hesitated, her gaze flickering between Clay and Tsuyu. "Would it be alright if I took a picture? Just to show him?"
Clay glanced at the others, unsure. "Uh, sure, ma'am…" he muttered. I'm mentally still a nobody in Kentucky…
Mina was already on her feet, striking a dramatic pose. "Come on, everyone! Let's make her son's day!"
Kirishima grinned, throwing a thumbs-up, while Ochaco nervously tucked her hair behind her ear but smiled warmly for the photo. Tsuyu gave her signature calm wave, her quiet demeanor standing out among the group's more animated expressions.
Clay, on the other hand, remained seated, tipping his head to the camera. Skipper, perched on his shoulder, twitched his nose at the lens, adding an unintended element of charm to the picture.
"Thank you so much," the woman gushed, bowing slightly before hurrying off, her phone already in her hands as she admired the photo. This continued for a while, and eventually, Clay stood up, nodded politely, and excused himself from the group.
Famous. Famous…
"Yeah, I… I dunno," Clay muttered, holding Skipper in one hand, and his purchases in the other. "It's weird… I'm just here to fight people. As long as no one's askin' me to move to Hollywood or anythin'."
Clay was just thinking about the fact that he hadn't seen Midoriya in a while when he saw him sat down on a bench. That part didn't concern Clay, he was more concerned about the guy in a black hoodie sitting next to him, with an arm over his shoulder and his hand on Midoriya's throat. Is that kinda thing normal here?… Clay thought to himself.
Danger. Enemy.
With the two agreeing that something was off, Clay stepped forward. He was about to say something when he noticed the stranger's hair. A dusty blue color, and lips that were almost non-existent.
Clay's heart skipped a beat, his grip tightening around Skipper as he processed the scene. The guy's posture was too casual, his hand too deliberate in its placement on Midoriya's throat. Every part of his hand was touching except for one finger. Every instinct Clay had—backed up by Skipper's faint but urgent broadcast of Danger. Enemy.—told him this wasn't some random encounter.
Midoriya's face was pale, his body rigid. His green eyes darted to Clay for the briefest second, wide with alarm, but his expression didn't change otherwise. He was holding still, tense, like he knew the wrong move could make things worse.
Clay decided all at once what he would do. Dropping his bag, he sprinted forward and threw Skipper as hard as he could at Shigaraki's face.
Skipper's small body arced through the air like a furry missile, his tiny claws outstretched and his squeaks sharp and angry. The sudden movement caught Shigaraki off guard, his crimson eyes widening in surprise as the rat collided with his face.
"Gah! What the—?!" Shigaraki snarled, stumbling back as Skipper latched onto his hair, claws scrambling for purchase. He swiped at the rat instinctively, his hand missing by inches as Skipper darted onto his shoulder and bit down hard.
"Run!" Clay barked at Midoriya as he closed the distance, his boots pounding against the polished mall floor.
Midoriya didn't need to be told twice. The moment Shigaraki's grip loosened, he scrambled off the bench, stumbling slightly before catching himself. His green eyes flicked between Clay and Shigaraki, One For All sparking faintly at his fingertips. "Clay, watch out!" he shouted.
But it was too late. Clay had launched himself at the villain. Shigaraki barely had time to react before Clay threw his entire body at him, knocking him over like it was any other clumsy bar fight. Clay had managed to get a grip on one of his wrists, but the blue-haired man was stronger than he looked.
"Get off me!" Shigaraki hissed, his free hand swiping wildly toward Clay. More rats were pouring out, assaulting him faster than he could grip each one and turn it to dust. The chaos escalated as Skipper's squeaks turned into a sharp rallying cry, summoning more rats from Clay's arms. Shigaraki's frustration was palpable, his snarls cutting through the noise as he swatted at the tiny creatures clawing and biting at him.
Clay gritted his teeth, holding tightly to Shigaraki's wrist, careful to avoid his deadly fingers. The man's strength was surprising, almost inhuman, as he twisted and thrashed beneath Clay, but years of wrestling on rough dirt back in Deercrown gave Clay an edge in raw determination.
"Midoriya!" Clay barked, his voice strained as he struggled to keep Shigaraki pinned. "Get some backup—now!"
Midoriya hesitated for only a second before shaking his head, his One For All sparks dimming as he approached. Shigaraki's eyes darted toward him, and his lips curled into a snarl. "I'll kill both of you," he hissed, twisting his body and jerking his free hand toward Midoriya.
Clay reacted instinctively, pulling a knife from his boot and slamming it into the ground through Shigaraki's hand. The blade caught the light as it sank into the polished floor, halting Shigaraki's motion just in time. Red blood seeped from the wound, but it only pinned his hand there for a few moments before it turned to dust.
"A knife?" he sneered, his voice low and dripping with contempt. "Who are you? A thug? You really think that's going to stop me? Your knife is gone!"
Clay's eyes darted to the side to confirm the statement. The hand was outstretched, keeping Midoriya at bay. The lapse in attention was all Shigaraki needed. The blanket of rats over him didn't seem to impede him as she freed himself from Clay's grip. The wrestling match continued, with every attempt Midoriya gave to help thwarted by a clever placement of Shigaraki's hand or a deft dodge.
"Let's see how far that compassion gets you," Shigaraki snarled, his fingers pressing against Clay's shin.
Pain erupted in Clay's leg as Shigaraki's Quirk activated, the decay spreading rapidly across his boot, his jeans, and up his calf. Clay yelled out, a mix of pain and fury, as he kicked back instinctively with his free leg, breaking Shigaraki's grip, but not before Shigaraki made a quick twist, sending a horrible bolt of pain up Clay's leg and spine.
The damage was done. The lower part of Clay's leg buckled under his weight, the bone cracked from the partial decay and the twist. He collapsed onto the floor, his hands trembling as he tried to push himself up.
Skipper, sensing the danger, squeaked loudly and lunged back toward Shigaraki, biting down hard on his ear. The villain roared in frustration, swiping at the rat with his free hand, but Skipper was too quick, darting away just in time. The other rats pooled at his legs.
"Clay!" Midoriya shouted, his voice filled with panic as he skidded to a stop, turning back toward his fallen classmate. He was between the two, and Clay didn't think it was wise at all for Midorya to turn his back on Shigaraki for even a moment.
"Don't—" Clay choked out, his voice strained and his teeth barred. "I'll be okay, look at him!"
Shigaraki's escape was as sudden as it was calculated. The moment Midoriya turned his head, the villain was gone. Clay had just enough clarity to hear a faint clink of something hitting the ground, like a marble being dropped on the floor, though Shigaraki's mocking tone whispered at the back of Midoriya's mind: You're not worth my time. Not yet
Clay couldn't bring himself to look down to see the state of his leg, but given the faces that surrounded him, he could tell that it was nothing short of horrific.
Skipper squeaked furiously, darting toward the spot where Shigaraki had been, his tiny claws skidding against the polished floor. The other rats gathered just as quickly, joining in the investigation. None of them could figure what had happened. He just disappeared into nothing, in front of everyone. The circle of stunned bystanders erupted into panicked murmurs, but their faces all carried the same horrified expression as they stared at Clay.
Midoriya dropped to his knees beside Clay, his green eyes wide and frantic. "Clay, your leg—"
"Don't tell me what it looks like, partner," Clay muttered through gritted teeth, his face pale as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Ain't really in the mood to admire it."
Midoriya swallowed hard, visibly trying to keep calm despite the trembling in his hands. "I—I'll call for help! Just stay still—"
"Clay!" another voice shouted, cutting through the noise. Two figures pushed their way through the crowd: Koda and Shoji, their usually quiet presences now charged with urgency.
Shoji, his multiple arms extended for stability and support, knelt beside Clay without hesitation. His sharp, perceptive gaze took in the situation immediately, his tone calm but firm. "Midoriya, keep the crowd back. They're making it harder to breathe here."
Midoriya nodded quickly, standing and raising his voice to the growing group of onlookers. "Everyone, please step back! It's not safe!" His tone carried an authority that belied his panicked expression, and the crowd began to shuffle backward.
Koda, meanwhile, crouched beside Clay, his usually gentle demeanor tinged with urgency. "W-we'll get you to Recovery Girl," he said, his voice trembling but determined. He looked at Skipper, who was perched protectively on Clay's shoulder, and whispered softly, "You did great, little guy."
Skipper twitched his nose, his thoughts faint but fierce: Protect. Friend. Fix.
Shoji motioned to Koda. "Help me lift him. Carefully. We can't risk making the injury worse."
Clay couldn't help but let out a growl of pain at being moved. "Do I even have a leg anymore…" he said, his eyes squeezed shut, still not daring to even peek at the wound.
Koda reverted back to his usual silence, though Clay could feel him trembling. It was Shoji that finally answered him. "It's bad," he said simply as the two carried him forward. To where, Clay had no clue.
Midoriya followed closely behind, his fists clenched as he scanned the mall for any sign of Shigaraki. "He just disappeared," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. "I don't understand how—"
"Don't beat yourself up," Clay said weakly, his head rolling. "That bastard's slippery. He's been at this game longer than us."
Shoji and Koda carried Clay toward the exit, their movements careful but efficient. As the police and patrolling heroes began to step in, cordoning off the area and directing the crowd, Clay allowed himself to exhale, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, causing the pain to flow even more.
As Shoji and Koda carried Clay through the mall's exit, the flashing lights of an ambulance parked nearby caught his attention. The scene outside was a controlled frenzy—paramedics and heroes working in tandem to manage the panicked crowd, with officers taking statements and keeping onlookers at bay.
Clay's jaw clenched as the pain in his leg intensified with every step, and he muttered through gritted teeth, "Hope they got room for me in that ambulance, 'cause I ain't makin' it back on foot."
"They're here for you," Shoji said calmly, though there was a tension in his voice that betrayed his concern. As they reached the ambulance, the paramedics hurried to meet them, carefully lowering Clay onto a stretcher.
Clay let out a low groan as they adjusted the splint, his fingers gripping the edge of the stretcher tightly. "Ahh… God save me…" he groaned. Skipper sat perched on his chest, his tiny body quivering as his faint thoughts echoed in Clay's mind: Fix. Heal. Stay calm.
"Clay!" Tsuyu's voice cut through the commotion, her tone steady but urgent as she approached the ambulance. Ochaco trailed behind her, her expression a mix of worry and confusion.
Midoriya turned to them, his face grim. "Shigaraki was here. He attacked Clay—he used his decay Quirk on his leg."
Ochaco's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God… Is he—?"
"Still kickin'," Clay interjected weakly, raising a hand in a small wave, though his eyes were still shut. "Just not with this leg…"
Tsuyu's wide eyes flicked from Midoriya to Clay, her calm demeanor betraying a flicker of unease. Without hesitation, she stepped toward the ambulance, climbing inside and settling into the seat beside Clay's stretcher.
"Tsuyu, you don't have to—" Midoriya began, but she cut him off with a quiet croak.
"I'm staying with him, ribbit," she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The paramedics nodded, shutting the ambulance doors behind her as the vehicle began to pull away, its siren cutting through the chaos outside. There was nothing more that they could do until Clay was at the hospital.
Inside the ambulance, the world seemed to shrink down to the dimly lit interior and the steady hum of the engine. Clay finally allowed himself to exhale, his head falling back against the stretcher as the adrenaline began to wear off completely.
"You're brave," Tsuyu said softly, her hands resting on her lap as she watched him. "But reckless, ribbit."
Clay let out a strained chuckle, wincing as the movement jostled his leg. "He coulda off'd Midoriya at any moment, I had to do somethin'."
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence punctuated only by the faint beeping of the ambulance's monitors. Then Clay glanced at Tsuyu, his jaw tightening. "I guess I should look now, huh?"
Tsuyu's gaze softened, and she gave a small nod. "It's better to know, ribbit."
With trembling hands, Clay propped himself up slightly, glancing down at his leg. His breath hitched as his eyes took in the damage—the shredded remnants of his jeans, the raw, decayed flesh, the unnatural angle of his lower leg. It was worse than he'd imagined.
"Hell's bells…" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He let himself fall back against the stretcher, his hands covering his face for a moment.
The ambulance ride to the hospital felt both endless and fleeting, the steady hum of the engine blending with the rhythmic beeping of the medical monitors. Clay's mind raced, jumping between flashes of Shigaraki's twisted grin and the sharp pain radiating from his leg. Every bump in the road sent fresh waves of pain up his spine, and he clenched his teeth to keep from groaning.
Tsuyu sat quietly beside him, her expression calm but her wide eyes betraying a storm of worry. She hadn't said much after Clay had looked at his leg, but her presence was steadying. Skipper remained perched on Clay's chest, his tiny whiskers twitching as faint thoughts echoed in Clay's mind: Safe. Heal. Fix.
When they finally arrived at the hospital, Clay barely registered the flurry of activity around him. The paramedics wheeled him out of the ambulance, their voices calm and professional as they called out his condition. Tsuyu followed closely, her steady gaze fixed on Clay as she kept pace with the stretcher.
As they entered the sterile, brightly lit halls of the hospital, a familiar voice cut through the noise like a knife. "Clayton Derreks, what were you thinking?!"
Clay groaned inwardly, recognizing the sharp, scolding tone of Recovery Girl before he even saw her. She bustled toward him, her diminutive frame somehow exuding an aura of authority that made even the paramedics step aside.
"I didn't ask for this, ma'am," Clay muttered weakly. "I don't think he woulda stopped if I asked 'em to…"
"That doesn't mean you throw yourself at him like a lunatic!" Recovery Girl snapped, her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. "You're lucky you're not dead, young man. Honestly, do they grow common sense where you're from, or is that a foreign concept? Did you ever learn it?"
Clay couldn't help but let out a strained chuckle, wincing as it jostled his leg. "No, ma'am. I tried to only learn important things…"
Tsuyu, still standing quietly at his side, gave a faint croak of amusement, her lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile.
Recovery Girl shook her head, her scowl softening ever so slightly as she motioned for the paramedics to position Clay's stretcher. "Let's take a look at this mess," she muttered, her tone no less sharp but tinged with genuine concern.
Clay sucked in a breath as Recovery Girl peeled back what was left of his jeans, revealing the full extent of the damage. The decayed flesh, exposed bone, and mangled angle of his leg were enough to make even the seasoned paramedics wince. "You're lucky I was here and not at U.A., young man…"
"Hell's bells," Clay muttered again, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hush," Recovery Girl said briskly, waving an old finger as she examined the injury. "It's bad, but I've seen worse. You're not losing the leg, but you'll be in for a rough recovery."
It was about then that Clay passed out.
Back at the mall, the aftermath of Shigaraki's attack left a tense and somber atmosphere among the U.A. students. The cordoned-off area where Clay had fallen was now swarming with police officers, pro-heroes, and mall security, all working to piece together what had transpired and close the mall down. Shoppers lingered at the edges of the scene, whispering in hushed tones about the terrifying villain encounter they had witnessed.
Ochaco, still shaken, stood with Midoriya, Tsuyu's absence beside her more noticeable than ever. She kept wringing her hands, her brow furrowed with concern as she glanced at the spot where Clay had been injured. "I can't believe this happened," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the chatter around them. "I mean, Shigaraki? Here? What if Clay hadn't been here?"
Midoriya stood rigid, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as if trying to contain his frustration. His green eyes darted between the officers and the mall entrance, his mind racing. "He was here," Midoriya said finally, his voice quiet but resolute. "He was after me… Kept rambling about Stain…"
Ochaco's eyes widened slightly. "Do you think he was targeting you?"
Midoriya hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don't know. But Clay—" His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard before continuing. "Clay saved me. He didn't hesitate, even when it meant getting hurt. I just… I can't believe he threw himself into that fight."
"He's reckless," Shoji interjected, his deep voice cutting through the tension as he approached with Koda.
Mina was there too, awkwardly holding a few shopping bags, one of them being Clay's. "We talked to Edgeshot," she said quietly. "He's coordinating with the police to figure out how Shigaraki got in and out without anyone noticing."
"Shigaraki left no trace," Kirishima added, his voice low. "No one saw how he escaped. It's like he vanished into thin air."
Midoriya's fists clenched tighter, his frustration boiling over. "That's because he's always a step ahead," he muttered, his voice bitter. "He doesn't need to win every fight. Just being here was enough to rattle us—and hurt Clay."
Ochaco reached out, placing a gentle hand on Midoriya's arm. "We'll figure it out," she said softly. "But we can't blame ourselves for what happened. Clay wouldn't want that."
Tsuyu's absence was palpable, and Mina glanced around, her pink brows furrowed. "Where's Froppy?"
"She went with Clay," Midoriya said, his voice softening. "His leg is… bad. She wanted to make sure he was okay."
The group stood in uneasy silence, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them. The usually lively energy that defined Class 1-A was nowhere to be found, replaced instead with solemnity and resolve.
"I'm glad Froppy went with him," Mina said finally, her voice quieter than usual as she shifted the weight of Clay's bag in her hands. "He's tough, but… even the toughest need someone, you know?"
Kirishima nodded, his sharp teeth clenched as he stared at the cordoned-off area. "Yeah. Clay's the kind of guy who doesn't ask for help, even when he needs it. Tsuyu's good at reading people like that."
The silence that hung over the group was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps, followed by a familiar, gruff voice that carried equal parts irritation and authority.
"You kids always manage to find trouble, don't you?"
They turned to see Aizawa, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his trademark tired expression firmly in place. His scarf hung loosely around his neck, and his sharp eyes flicked over each of them in turn, taking in their somber expressions and the weight of what had just transpired.
"Sensei," Midoriya said quickly, straightening his posture. "We—"
Aizawa raised a hand, cutting him off. "Save it. I already heard the gist of what happened." His tone was blunt, but his gaze softened slightly as he took in the tension radiating from the group. "No one's blaming you for what Shigaraki did. That's on him, not you."
Ochaco let out a shaky breath, relief mixing with the lingering worry on her face. "Clay… he's going to be okay, right?"
Aizawa nodded curtly. "Recovery Girl's with him. If anyone can patch him up, it's her." His tone grew heavier as he added, "But don't let that fool you into thinking what happened today wasn't serious. You all need to remember how dangerous villains like Shigaraki are. He doesn't fight fair, and he doesn't leave loose ends. We've been training you all for this, so just be smart."
Aizawa's gaze turned to Midoriya, his expression unreadable. "And you," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I heard Clay stepped in to protect you."
Midoriya nodded, guilt flickering across his face. "Yes, Sensei. I tried to help, but…" His voice faltered, and he looked down, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Stop that," Aizawa said sharply. "Clay made a choice. A reckless one, but a brave one. He stepped in because he saw a threat and acted. That's more than I can say for some pro heroes I've seen. So don't stand here beating yourself up over it. Focus on what you can do better next time."
Midoriya looked up, his green eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and determination. "Yes, Sensei."
Aizawa's gaze swept over the group one last time, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You all need to head back to U.A. Edgeshot and the police have everything under control here. There's nothing more for you to do, and standing around won't help Clay or anyone else."
The students nodded, their resolve steadying as they began to move toward the exit.
As they walked away, Mina glanced back at Aizawa, hesitating for a moment. "Sensei?"
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.
"Clay… he'll be okay, right?"
Aizawa's expression softened, and though he still looked tired, there was a hint of begrudging pride in his voice as he replied, "Clay's tough. Stubborn, too. If anyone can bounce back from this, it's him."
With that, Mina turned and followed the others, her steps lighter as the group made their way back to U.A., their determination burning brighter than ever.
And as Aizawa watched them go, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "That kid's got more guts than sense… but sometimes, that's exactly what it takes."