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The lunchroom was the last place anyone ever expected to witness a murder, especially given the fact that it was a lunchroom at a hero academy. But sitting there, watching the way Shinso’s eyes radiated pure death, it was hard for the small crowd of students to picture the situation ending any differently.
Kendo was wrestling with a cackling Monoma. Iida was scrambling (in vain) to keep his peers in their seats. Hagakure was sobbing, and Ojiro and Shiozaki were doing their best to comfort her. Mina seemed to be living, doubled over in laughter. And there was pudding. So much pudding everywhere. Splattered across uniforms, tangled in hair, spilling out of backpacks–there was no end to the mess.
Just to think, one chaotic blonde was capable of causing so much mayhem.
***
“Shinso, you’re a part of class 1-B.” Monoma says, as though neither Midoryia, Iida, Uraraka, nor Shinso himself is aware of the fact. “Why do you want to hang around these idiots from 1-A?”
Shinso doesn’t even bother to look up from his food, let alone respond. Two months had been enough time to desensitize him to his classmate’s bouts of insanity.
“Leave them alone.” Kendo cautions, her voice firm. She tries to nudge him towards the rest of their class, but he doesn’t budge. If she wanted to, she could use her quirk to knock him out, but he really needed to learn how to function without constant supervision.
Her warning falls on deaf ears. Monoma was still Monoma, after all, and rational thought wasn’t something he was capable of whenever class 1-A was involved. He dons that maniacal grin of his and plants a firm hand on Shinso’s shoulder, keeping it there, even when the other boy turns and raises an eyebrow, irritated.
“Come on, why don’t you and I show these losers why they’re doomed to live in 1-B’s shadow?”
The purple-haired student just scoffs, twisting back towards the table.
“No thanks.”
Not even a millisecond after the words leave his mouth, Shinso’s eyes glaze over. His mind is consumed by this fog–a haze that lets him see, feel and hear, yet leaves him helpless to react.
He’d been caught by his own damn quirk.
Whatever part of his brain he maintains control over is absolutely pissed–a little bit at himself for walking into such an obvious set-up, but mostly at his classmate for even daring to try and brainwash him.
Monoma’s grin stretches so wide that it looks like his skin is about to split.
“Stand up.” When Shinso has no choice but to comply, a sick, sadistic sort of pleasure courses through his body like electricity, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.
“Perfect. Now repeat after me…”
***
Of course, having Shinso echo back those stupid insults hadn’t been enough. 1-B’s resident crazy always had to take things a step too far.
In this case, it’d been ordering his classmate flip the lunch table. Why he thought that would be a good idea? Who knows; He was Monoma–arrogant, spastic, and totally unhinged.
It wasn’t like the other students hadn’t tried to stop him. Kendo had thrown her tray to the ground the moment she saw that familiar expression cross his face, springing forward to muffle the blonde’s words with a giant hand. But by the time she’d reached him, it’d been too late–the command had been issued.
When Shinso’s husk hooked his fingers under the edge of the table, Iida had been the first to dart towards him. He hurled his weight across the surface and actually managed to thwart the attempt at upturning it. Unfortunately, he’d alsomanaged to send four trays flying across the cafeteria–each of which were loaded to the brim with Lunch-Rush’s signature caramel custard.
One smacked Shinso in the head, freeing him from his trance and also coating his hair in a thick film of gooey, sugary syrup. Two of them splattered on other lunch tables. Needless to say, it drew a very confused, very angry crowd of students towards the source of the chaos. Considering all the other places the fourth and final tray could have ended up, perhaps it was for the best that it shot straight up in the air and landed right back on the table. Sure, it’d managed to splatter all over the front of Iida’s uniform, but he’d been so busy rushing to restrain Shinso that he’d hardly even noticed.
***
When Aizawa enters his classroom to find his students standing alongside the entirety of class 1-B–their uniforms sopping wet, like they’d stepped into the shower wearing them–he knows he’s in for a long day. It doesn’t help that Vlad King is standing right there beside them. That meant that this was more than just a friendly visit.
“There was an incident at lunch.”
Aizawa shuts his eyes, running his hands down his face and taking a deepbreath of air.”
“They don’t pay me enough for this.”