It took about 3 hours for U.A. to send Recovery Girl to the training camp to check my body and current condition.
Once again, she seriously warned me that my body was already weaker than a normal person in terms of physical resistance, and with my Quirk having such a big side effect, it was certain that I would die sooner or later. She also advised me not to become a hero anymore if I didn't want my body "like a flickering lamp in the wind" to be beyond saving, but it was clearly too early for me to give up so easily. There were too many things to do, and above all, there were too many targets I needed to deal with - both saving and eliminating - so obeying her was almost never going to happen.
Recovery Girl also mentioned this directly to Aizawa, with the intention of helping her influence me to stop everything before returning to U.A.
"No matter how important he is, if both Principal Nezu and U.A. rely too much on his prophecies, the day he dies will be the day U.A. will follow him to the grave."
Dream on. I'm far from giving up.
After Recovery Girl left, the room fell into a heavy silence, filled only with the smell of antiseptic and the sound of my steady breathing. Aizawa-sensei stood by the window, his back still and stiff. He said nothing, just looked out at the forest that was slowly fading into darkness outside.
"She's right," he finally said, his voice hoarse, without turning around. "You're killing yourself, Onodera."
"That's the price to pay," I replied mechanically.
Aizawa sneered, a dry, joyless sound. "The price? The price for what? Changing the future? Who do you think you are, a god? You're just a 16 year old boy with a rotting body. Stop trying to act like a hero!!"
"Hey, are you really stupid or don't you realize where I'm studying?" I replied jokingly. "What I did wasn't something a hero could do."
Seeing that he didn't respond, I slowly stood up and walked out the door, not forgetting to say one last thing before leaving.
"If I hadn't sacrificed myself for what I believed in, for the people I respected and loved, I wouldn't have been on the same side as you in the first place..."
...
The afternoon sun was starting to turn yellow and slowly sink into the distant horizon, along with the mental state of both classes now.
In front of me was Ragdoll and Pixie-Bob - who had prepared a bunch of things for everyone to cook their own curry for dinner. I don't know about everyone else, but to me, everyone in the Wild Wild Pussycat group spoke as if they had escaped from a mental hospital. Maybe they were just acting because... yeah, maybe it was just a "mask" to show the world, or their hyperactive appearance was real. Who knows.
Ida, after receiving Ragdoll's reminder, immediately encouraged everyone to join hands to make the best curry in the world, enough to make everyone much more excited.
I didn't say another word, just casually walked behind Ragdoll as if to try to scare her - I don't know why I did that stupid action, but it didn't seem to work because when I was only half a step behind her, she suddenly turned around and threatened me, making me scared out of my wits, reflexively taking a step back.
My scream just now was probably a little... too feminine. I didn't know whether to feel good that my vocal cords were working smoothly or to feel concerned that this was more gay than I normally accepted.
Ragdoll, on the other hand, burst out laughing triumphantly, her hands on her hips, looking extremely smug.
"Caught you in the act!" she shouted, her voice full of mischief. "You think you can sneak past my 'Search' Quirk?"
The whole class, already tired, had to laugh at my stiff appearance.
Normally I would have argued, but never mind, it's fine to go along with everyone a little.
"Alright, you win. Can I join in now?"
Ragdoll grinned, slapping my shoulder painfully. "Of course! Make yourself at home!"
The atmosphere quickly became more tense and organized under Ida's direction. Everyone was divided into tasks: one group washed the vegetables - onions, carrots and potatoes, one group prepared the meat and cut the vegetables, and another group - including Guren and Shoto - took care of lighting the fire and cooking the rice.
"This is so annoying. Why don't you prepare more than enough things to make a hot pot for everyone?" Guren grumbled, clearly not liking being treated as a lighter.
"So do you want to eat or fast now, senpai? If you want to eat, you have to do it." I replied, not forgetting to smirk, making him want to explode.
Having teased Guren enough, I glanced around to find something to do to relieve my boredom. My eyes stopped at the vegetable and meat cutting area, where Bakugo - after literally blowing up one of the wood stoves he had built to start the fire - was swinging his knife at an astonishing speed. His knife strokes were fast, strong, and full of aggression, but strangely, the slices of carrots and potatoes were even, as if he had done this a thousand times before. I quietly walked over, grabbed another knife and a cutting board, and stood next to him.
We didn't say a word to each other. The makeshift wood stove only had the sounds of people cheering as Shoto and Guren successfully lit the fire, the crackling of the fire, and the steady, rhythmic sound of our knives. My knife moved coldly, precisely, and efficiently. Every cut was calculated, not a single wasted movement. His knife was full of explosive energy, but also precise. The two of us, in some strange way, had created a wordless competition, to see who could finish their vegetables faster.
"You're so fucking slow at chopping onions," Bakugo suddenly growled, still not taking his eyes off the cutting board.
"At least I didn't make it explode like a Muslim when he got to heaven to meet Allah," I replied nonchalantly.
He made a "tch" sound and wanted to say something, but then his eyes seemed unable to digest my joke and fell silent again, but I noticed that his chopping speed increased even more, but the vegetables and fruits remained in perfect order.
When the vegetables were finally done, I let out a breath, feeling my shoulders a little tired. Bakugo had finished a few seconds before me, and he gave me a smug look before turning to the meat.
"Who will deal the meat?" I asked evenly.
"Of course it's me," Bakugo growled, swinging his cleaver. "Get out of the way."
"Split it in half, each of us will prepare one portion," I replied simply, grabbing another cleaver.
Meanwhile, in the cooking area, a small disaster was unfolding.
"Hot! Too hot!" Kaminari yelled as he tried to stir the giant pot of rice, nearly knocking it over.
"Be careful, Kaminari!" Ida yelled, rushing over to catch him. "Cooking requires concentration and care!"
This noisy, chaotic, yet vibrant atmosphere...felt so strange...
...
Finally, after nearly an hour of struggling, the curry was done. The rich aroma of curry, meat, and vegetables filled the air, overpowering the smell of wood smoke. Everyone, hungry as they were, gathered around the large pots of curry, their eyes shining.
"It looks delicious!" Kirishima was the first to shout, scooping a ladleful of curry into his bowl. He blew on it and took a big bite. "It's so delicious!!! Onodera! Bakugo! You two are amazing!"
Everyone started eating as well, and there were endless gasps and compliments. I also scooped a small bowl for myself, quietly sitting down in a corner. I scooped a piece of potato, a piece of carrot, a piece of meat, drenched it in curry sauce, and brought it to my mouth.
It... was really delicious. The sweetness of the vegetables mixed with the richness of the meat and the spiciness of the curry, all just right, not too soft nor too hard.
I raised my head and looked around. Everyone was laughing and talking happily. The fatigue from a long day seemed to have disappeared, replaced by the warmth of a shared meal. Guren was also sitting and eating with Shoto, his expression seemingly satisfied. Ida was still walking around reminding everyone to eat slowly.
This feeling... it was it again. That cozy feeling, the feeling of being part of a group. Last time, I was just an observer, an outsider who accidentally tasted it. But this time, it was different. This curry... part of it was made by me.
I didn't cry. Instead, a small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on my lips. A genuine smile.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" Bakugo plopped down opposite, his bowl of curry filled to the brim.
"No. It's just...fuck, eating this is as good as fucking drug stuffs..."
Instantly, the cheerful atmosphere froze. Everyone stopped chewing, looking at me with a mixture of horror and confusion, and on top of that, everyone looked at me as if they wanted to chop me up the moment I finished speaking.
"You guys clearly not get my joke, right...?"
Aizawa-sensei just sighed, burying his face in his hands
"Alright," he suddenly stood up, breaking the suffocating silence. "After you're done eating, clean up. Everyone needs to get some rest. We'll continue our hellish training at 6am tomorrow morning. Ryuga, take the day off tomorrow, I'll train you separately tonight. Guren, let's discuss a few things later. Now, enjoy your meal, I have to prepare some things."
Aizawa-sensei's words were like an antidote, the atmosphere quickly returned to normal, although there were still a few curious gazes directed towards me. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have to participate in the training tomorrow morning, but I couldn't help but be wary of that "private training session". Aizawa never did anything without a purpose.
Bakugo "tch"ed, gave me an unpleasant look as if saying "are you getting special treatment?", then continued to bury his head in his bowl of curry.
The atmosphere quickly returned to its usual cheerful chaos. Ida started to command everyone to clean up again, and in no time, the dining area was cleaned up.
I separated myself from the crowd, finding the back porch of the cabin, where the moonlight illuminated a deserted yard. Tonight was strangely quiet. But I knew, this was just the calm before the storm. The plan had gone awry. Being held by Aizawa tomorrow night would prevent me from being in the forest when the Vanguard Squad attacked.
I pulled a palm-sized device from my pocket, a simple transmitter. I needed to send the message now, while I still had the chance. I turned on the GPS and punched in a pre-arranged Morse code sequence:
...- .- -. --. ..- .- .-. -.. (VANGUARD)
- --- -- --- .-. .-. --- .-- (TOMORROW)
-. .. --. .... - (NIGHT)
..-. --- .-. . ... - (FOREST)
- .- .-. --. . - ---... -... .- -.- ..- --. --- (TARGET: BAKUGO)
... - .- - ..- ... ---... ..- -. -.- -. --- .-- -. (STATUS: UNKNOWN)
.--. .-.. .- -. -... (PLAN B)
... - .- -.-- ... .- ..-. . (STAY SAFE)
"Sending a love letter?"
A lazy voice rang out from behind. It was Guren. He had been standing there for a while, leaning against a tree trunk, his hands in his pockets.
"Call someone to clean up the mess tomorrow." I replied and put the pager back in my pocket. "The more the merrier."
"Isn't it just selling us out?" He asked back with a calculating look.
"Fuck, never. And what the hell is Aizawa doing keeping me here tomorrow night?" I asked Guren with a bit of annoyance.
"It's just an excuse," he replied. "Anyway, after that shaggy teacher tutors the juniors, we can get into the details."