Chapter Thirty-Seven : Lick a Wound or Two

Kirishima being in the lead made things better. The branches would just snap most of the time as he walked through them. It left Clay lots of time to try and recover as he walked.

Did he lash out at his friends? Yes. Yes he did. Skipper seemed to be punishing him with all the random nips he'd take at Clay's ear. The more Clay thought about it, the less and less he liked it.

He'd never had friends this good. And this was how he was treating them.

"How much longer?" Mina moaned. "I feel like I'm gonna die if we keep going…"

"Shouldn't be much further… We've made good pace and the sun's almost down…" Momo said, her head craned to the sky.

"Can't be much further," Clay said, grimacing as he lifted his leg above yet another fallen log. If he had thought about it back then, he wouldn't have known if he could even make the trek. If he were liable to hurt himself, wouldn't Aizawa have stopped him? "Game trail's thinin' out. Most animals try to stay away from humans, especially the big ones."

When he saw the weary face of Mina turned back to him, he forced a smile. He was disgusted with himself, for leaving Momo behind and lashing out, but the pain in his leg was a constant reminder of his pitiful existence. But, if he were the leader, then there was one principal that applied. Never let them know you're hurt.

"Hey man," Kirishima said, snapping another branch as he lumbered forward. "Do you need to sit down? That can't be good for your leg."

"Hurt myself worse shavin'…"

"Ribbit… Clay…"

He knew Tsuyu wasn't buying it. None of them were.

Still, she didn't press. Tsuyu just gave him a long, unreadable look before falling back into step beside Momo, as if silently deciding to let him have the dignity of pretending.

The group pressed on, the path growing steeper and rockier as they climbed. The fading light bled through the canopy in long, thin fingers, casting the woods in a hazy golden gloom. Shadows stretched between the trees like reaching arms.

Kirishima continued breaking the way forward, stomping over brush and snapping branches with his Hardened Quirk like a bulldozer on legs. It made things easier. And it gave Clay time to think, which, unfortunately, was the last thing he needed.

Every limping step hammered the guilt deeper into his ribs: Left Momo behind. Snapped at Tsu. Growled at Midoriya (which, arguably, deserved it the least of anyone). Barked at Sero and Mina like a damn junkyard dog.

Skipper nipped at his earlobe again — a sharp little warning. Fix.

Clay grimaced. Yeah, buddy, I know.

"Hey, uh..." Sero started hesitantly, breaking the uneasy silence. "I wonder what kinda food they'll have for us."

Sero, my man, Clay thought with a smile that was a little closer to genuine.

It happened quite suddenly. Kirishima was plowing through branches, and then they found the clearing. Iida and Bakugo were already there, along with Aizawa and the cats. Clay nearly forgot the kid that was sulking by the building.

Clay collapsed instantly, not even bothering to roll on his back. They'd made it, and that was enough for him.

"Derreks," Aizawa muttered. "If you would have listened to the instructions, you would have known that you would be exempt from this exercise… That being said, I'm impressed that you were able to make it…"

"You can bet your ass I made it, Sunshine," Clay wheezed. "I'mma just gonna lay here for a minute…" It would have been better if he wasn't made to wear the damn school uniform.

Aizawa gave a tired grunt that might have been approval—or just resignation—before stepping past Clay without another word.

Around him, the rest of the class was slowly stumbling into the clearing. Mina flopped dramatically onto the ground beside him, groaning like she was on the brink of death. Kirishima, grinning through the mud and scratches, helped Momo ease down to sit on a nearby rock. Sero stretched like a cat, his arms cracking audibly.

Midoriya, of course, immediately pulled out his notebook, already muttering something about analyzing endurance improvements and survival tactics.

Tsuyu crouched beside Clay, her expression neutral but her eyes lingering a bit longer than necessary, as if waiting for him to admit he needed help.

He didn't. Not verbally, anyway.

Instead, he just let Skipper crawl down from his shoulder to his chest, the little rat curling up in a tight ball like a self-appointed guard.

Pixie-Bob bounded over with way too much energy for someone who had just sicced a mud dragon on a bunch of teenagers. "You made it! Yay! Good job, kittens!"

Clay cracked one eye open. "Don't call me that."

Pixie-Bob giggled like he'd said the funniest thing she'd ever heard, then was off doing something vaguely inappropriate to Bakugo and Iida.

"You've all done well to make it here," Mandalay said, her voice carrying that strange mix of firm professionalism and faint amusement. "Tomorrow, the real training begins."

Mina let out a soft whimper. "This wasn't the real training?"

From somewhere behind him, Bakugo barked a short, derisive laugh. "Tch. You extras barely survived the warm-up."

Clay didn't even bother flipping him off. Too tired. Too sore. Too… everything.

The cats still made Clay quite uneasy, mainly because he was certain there were four of them but he could only hear two.

"What's wrong Clay, don't like cats?" Sero teased, crumbled beside him wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Make me nervous…" he groaned. Finally, with a deep breath, he rolled on his back. Midoriya got nut-punched by the kid, Iida was freaking out about it, and Aizawa said something that Clay desperately needed to hear.

"Unload your bags from the bus, then you can eat at the cafeteria. Then you can bathe and get some sleep."

Clay stared up at the sky for a moment longer, letting Aizawa's words soak in like rain into dry earth.

Food. Bath. Sleep.

He forced himself to sit up with a grunt, Skipper scrambling a little as he adjusted. His leg screamed in protest, but he ignored it—again—and shoved himself upright. No way was he gonna be the guy everyone had to help off the damn ground.

"I'll get your bag, Clay," Midoriya called.

For an instant, Clay had opened his mouth, but he closed it again, turning a quick glance to Tsuyu and then back to him. "Appreciate it," he said slowly.

Midoriya beamed and darted off toward the bus with surprising energy for someone who had nearly keeled over half an hour ago.

Clay watched him go, something knotting in his chest that he couldn't quite name. Gratitude. Embarrassment. A weird, warm ache that maybe—just maybe—he wasn't screwing up completely.

He scrubbed a muddy hand down his face and pushed himself fully to his feet, swaying for a moment before catching his balance. Skipper climbed back onto his shoulder, settling there like a watchful, judgmental gargoyle.

Tsuyu appeared at his side then, carrying her own bag with one hand like it weighed nothing. She didn't say anything, but her presence was grounding, steady. Clay gave her a slight nod in thanks, and she nodded back, her expression unreadable as usual but her eyes strangely soft.

By the time Midoriya returned, struggling slightly under the weight of Clay's battered duffel bag, most of the others were already shuffling toward the cafeteria like exhausted zombies.

"Here you go!" Midoriya panted, dropping the bag at Clay's feet.

"Thanks, partner," Clay said, hefting the bag over his good shoulder with a grunt. "You didn't have to."

"You'd do it for me," Midoriya said simply.

Clay paused for a beat, then just nodded. There wasn't anything he could say that would make that land better than it already had. "Heh," he chuckled.

The walk to the cafeteria was slow, but no one rushed him. No one made a comment when he limped a little more noticeably. No one offered to carry his bag again.

They just walked, a loose-knit group, tired but together.

Inside, the cafeteria was warm and bright, the smell of food so strong it was almost overwhelming. Tables were already packed with students from both classes, laughter and chatter buzzing through the air.

Clay grabbed a plate and loaded it haphazardly with whatever looked hot and edible—some kind of curry, a mountain of rice, a bowl of miso soup for Skipper who didn't even wait for Clay to put it down before eating, and a plate full of the longest fried shrimp that Clay had ever seen.

Clay was about to take a bite out of one of these monster shrimps when he fumbled with his chopsticks. "Ah damnit…" he muttered, before looking over and taking the silver fork from Momo with an appreciative nod. "Much better, thanks," he said, though it was hard for him to get the words out.

Midoriya, predictably, was the first to speak once his mouth wasn't full. "I think we actually made good time compared to some of the other groups."

"Thanks to Clay," Kirishima said, raising his chopsticks in salute.

Clay swallowed and gave a weak smile. "Y'all pulled your weight too."

"You found Momo," Sero pointed out. "We didn't even realize she was gone at first."

Clay, of course, would have rather that not been brought up, but it was fine. The food was more than good enough, and Skipper wasn't pestering him for being mean to his friends at the moment.

He didn't deserve their trust. Not yet. But maybe he could earn it.

Tomorrow, when the real training began… What exactly that would entail, Clay didn't know, but from Aizawa apparently not planning on having Clay participate in the hike, he wondered if it would be just as grueling for him.

"Hey so," Clay said, swallowing his last forkful of rice. "Did anyone actually hear Aizawa tell me to stay behind?"

"Oh yeah," Sero said with a laugh.

"Yeah we just thought you were walking out of spite!" Kirishima said, wiping the curry from his cheek.

"Huh…"

"You didn't hear him, ribbit?"

Clay leaned back in his chair, setting his fork down with a soft clatter. "Nope. Was thinkin' about somethin' else at the time." He scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, grimacing. "Guess my brain's still got a few potholes from that concussion… I don't remember which one but still."

Midoriya's brow furrowed with immediate concern. "Clay, if you're still experiencing—"

"Can't let 'em know you're hurt," Clay said with a dry chuckle. "Especially for a knock on the head that I got durin' trainin'… Or at least I'm pretty sure that's where I got my last one from. Does anyone remember?"

"That's not funny, ribbit."

"Not laughin'," Clay murmured.

The table grew heavy with silence after that, the clinking of dishes and the distant chatter of other students feeling strangely far away.

Mina looked between them awkwardly, clearly trying to think of something to break the tension. "Well... uh... you're here, right? Still standing. Or, like, sitting. That's gotta count for something!"

Clay offered her a small, worn-out smirk. "Guess so."

Momo tapped her fingers gently against her cup, her eyes thoughtful. "Regardless of how it happened, if you're still experiencing memory issues, you should tell Recovery Girl."

"I'll be fine," Clay said, a little too quickly. His tone wasn't angry this time, just tired. "Just... need some sleep. Maybe a shot of somethin'. Maybe some prayer."

"You act like needing help is a weakness," Kirishima said, a little softer than his usual energetic tone.

"Yeah, just think of Midoriya. You threw your body at the hands guy to protect him, and you're not gonna tell us he's weak," Sero said.

Clay didn't argue. He just slouched a little more in his seat, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

He knew Kirishima and Sero were right. Hell, he knew all of them were right. But knowing didn't make it easier to feel right. Really, he just didn't like that it had to be all about him.

Then, Clay had to ask himself another question. Why was he working so hard? He wouldn't normally stretch himself this thin if he were in Deercrown.

The memory of his father? To carry on the family tradition of being lawmen? Maybe.

Tsuyu? Probably.

His friends? Yeah.

The rest of the table had drifted to another conversation, and Clay was content just to listen to them. The spotlight had been squarely upon him pretty much as soon as he got to U.A., and he wasn't fond of being the main character of anything.

He searched for his last concussion within his memory. It was probably Kirishima punching him in the back of the head during the sports festival. That was a while ago, so why the memory issues?

Was it what happened with the hands guy? No, his brain was in his head, not his leg.

Skipper stirred against his neck, squeaking softly, his little paws patting Clay's collarbone like he could somehow soothe him through sheer persistence.

Clay reached up absently and scratched behind the little rat's ears. "I know, buddy," he muttered under his breath. "I'm workin' on it."

Tsuyu caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, giving him a brief, small smile—one of those quiet little expressions that said I'm still here if you need me, without making it a big deal.

Clay let his hand drop back to the table. His fingers brushed the edge of his tray, the clatter snapping him briefly back to the present.

Maybe it wasn't about one hit, one fall, one mistake.

Maybe it was about carrying too much, for too long, without realizing he wasn't built to be a damn pack mule.

And now... now he had people willing to help shoulder the load, if he let them.

The idea was strange. Good, but strange.

"Hey, Clay!" Mina's voice snapped him out of it. "You spacing out again? We're talkin' about what kind of training horrors the Pussycats have planned for us tomorrow."

Clay smirked faintly. "Somethin' tells me it's gonna suck."

"That's the spirit!" Kirishima said, laughing.

Of course, as the meal came to a close, many of his classmates started to chatter about bathing while their stomachs bulged happily. He figured out pretty quickly that it would be something of a communal affair.

But hey, at least nobody judged Clay beyond some light teasing for wearing his swim trunks to the bathhouse.

Kirishima elbowed him good-naturedly as they shuffled toward the bathhouse. "Dude, swim trunks? You're killin' me."

Clay just shrugged, wholly unbothered. "Ain't flashin' anybody today. Or any day."
He caught a few chuckles from Sero and Kaminari, but it wasn't mean-spirited. Just the usual jabs between friends.

It wasn't like he was shy, exactly. It was more like... well, maybe he was just something of a prude. He had been called worse.

Inside the bathhouse, the air was thick with steam, curling in lazy ribbons along the tiled ceiling. Someone had left the window cracked to keep it from turning into a sauna, and the faint noise of the forest outside mixed with the echoing chatter of students.

"Wow, there's even a tree in here," Clay said, his towel still wrapped around his torso even though there was no need for it. He looked like a mess. But a mess that was still standing.

"You all right over there, man?" Kirishima asked, scrubbing his armpits.

"Peachy," Clay drawled, letting the hot water settle over his shoulders as he settled into the water. Goodness, it felt good though. Like it was soaking straight into his bones.

Kirishima snorted but didn't push.

Midoriya, predictably, had somehow found himself cornered by Bakugo, who was half-insulting and half-drowning him under a waterfall spout. Sero and Kaminari were splashing each other like oversized children. Ojiro was quietly soaking, his tail draped over the side of the pool like a lazy cat.

Clay was about to relax completely, but then he saw something that needed his attention.

"Mineta…" Clay grumbled, shifting his weight in the water. The warmth felt amazing against his leg, and he knew that he might have to give that up.

The little purple turd had his body pressed up against the wood paneling, where just beyond the women were soaking. God forbid he found a hole to look through.

Clay was about to pull himself up, but he saw Iida stand up like an arrow being fired into the air. He was marching through the water with such vigor that the water seemed to split for him as he made his way.

Mineta's little eyes went wide when he spotted Iida bearing down on him like a cruise missile of pure morality.

Clay, sinking back into the warmth with a grunt, watched the inevitable unfold with the satisfaction of a man who knew he'd just dodged a bullet.

Iida's voice boomed like a judge passing sentence. "MINETA! THIS IS A GROSS VIOLATION OF PRIVACY AND A BLATANT BREACH OF SCHOOL REGULATIONS!"

The next time Clay looked up, Mineta was almost halfway up the wall. He was using this Pop-offs to scale the thing, and he looked to be doing it pretty efficiently.

Mineta, the little bastard, clung to the wall like a grotesque purple spider, his sticky spheres popping off one by one to help him climb faster than Iida could ever hope to reach.

Iida, meanwhile, was sloshing furiously through the water, shouting declarations about morality and decorum, but it was obvious he wasn't going to make it in time.

Across the wall, Clay could hear the vague sound of confusion rising from the girls' side of the bath. He could just imagine the scene: Jiro's suspicious glare, Momo's mortified gasp, Mina's offended screech, and Tsuyu's quiet, deadly calm.

Yeah, that was about to turn into a whole situation.

Clay sighed heavily, pushing himself up onto the side of the bath with a wet slap of skin against stone. "Figures," he muttered.

Without standing completely (because no, he wasn't about to flash anybody, even if he were still wearing swim trunks.), Clay whistled sharply between his teeth. He dipped one arm under the water, where dozens upon dozens of rats came to the surface like the world's best bath bomb.

"Get the gremlin," Clay said simply, jerking his chin toward Mineta.

The rats moved as one, an organized wave of squeaks and scrabbling claws. They launched up the wall faster than any human could hope to climb, pouring up like a furry avalanche.

Mineta shrieked—an honest-to-god shriek—as he realized his doom was incoming. He flailed for the top, his sticky balls popping and sticking at a frantic, desperate pace, but it was too late.

The rats latched onto him with surgical precision, grabbing his arms, legs, and even the back of his stupid round head.

Clay heard more noise from the other side—definitely some shrieking—and decided he needed to smooth things over real quick.

He leaned back casually, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Everything's fine!" he called over the wall. "Pervert's bein' dealt with!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then Tsuyu's voice, dry as ever: "Thank you, ribbit."

Clay smirked, casting a quick glance back at the other guys, who were now frozen in a combination of awe and horror.

"Love you, babe," Clay called toward the girls' side without missing a beat, his voice light and easy.

This time, there was a very faint chuckle. Probably Jiro. Maybe even Tsuyu herself.

Satisfied, Clay turned back just in time to see his rats dragging Mineta down like tiny, merciless bounty hunters. The boy flailed uselessly, squealing the whole way.

When they finally deposited the squirming, horrified grape at the section of the bath where he was waiting, Clay didn't even hesitate.

"Thanks, boys," he said to the rats with a nod. Then he grabbed Mineta by the back of his stupid head and chucked him into the hot spring with an undignified SPLASH.

Mineta surfaced a second later, sputtering and whining.

"You're lucky," Clay drawled, sinking back into the water with a contented sigh. "Back home, I'd have told you to get a switch and count to three."

Kirishima lost it, doubling over with laughter. Sero clapped his hands, sending water flying. Even Bakugo, though he tried to hide it, gave a short, sharp snort that might have been a laugh if you squinted hard enough.

The water around Clay rippled gently as he sank lower, resting his head against the cool stone rim of the bath, fully intending to enjoy the peace he'd just reestablished.

Then, from his peripheral vision, he noticed Rosie—one of his more intelligent rats—sitting primly by the edge of the pool, her tiny paws folded in front of her chest. She gave a deliberate, almost polite wave, then gestured pointedly toward the ladies' side of the bath with a tiny squeak.

Clay cracked an eye open at her. "Really?"

Rosie sat back on her haunches, puffing up her little chest, the image of self-righteous dignity.

Clay huffed a small laugh under his breath. "Guess that's fair," he muttered.

Meanwhile, Iida was still in full crusader mode, towering over a shivering Mineta, who looked like a nearly-drowned dog. "YOUR BEHAVIOR TODAY HAS BEEN COMPLETELY UNBECOMING OF A STUDENT OF U.A. COLLEGE! YOU MUST REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS AND SEEK REDEMPTION THROUGH—"

Clay tuned him out entirely. He cupped his hands around his mouth again and called casually toward the girls' side, "Hey, uh—sorry to bother y'all again."

The chatter from the other side quieted immediately. Clay could practically feel all their ears tuning in like a pack of curious cats.

"Rosie's wantin' a bath too," Clay explained, glancing down at the little rat, who was still giving the most delicate, insistent gestures a rat could manage. "Since she's a lady and all, figured I'd ask if it's alright to send her over."

There was a brief murmur on the other side—a mix of amused giggles and half-hearted deliberations. Then Tsuyu's voice floated back, calm and sure: "We would be happy to have her, ribbit."

Clay smirked, glancing down at Rosie. "You hear that, girl? You got yourself an invite."

Rosie squeaked in excitement, practically vibrating with pride.

Clay whistled a short, crisp note, and Rosie bounded lightly along the stones, making her way up the dividing wall. With surprising grace, she scaled the ledge, hopped through the open window, and disappeared with a soft plop onto the other side.

There was a chorus of delighted "awwws" from the womans'' bath.

Clay leaned back with a deep sigh, letting the hot water soak into his bruised bones. Skipper curled up lazily on his shoulder, clearly approving of the entire transaction.

Then, Clay let himself relax.