This Thing A Quiet Madness Made

Chapter 21

Class 1-A eagerly filed off the bus, the chill of the city air hitting them as their feet reached the crowded sidewalk below.

The provisional license exam was finally here; the day they had worked so hard for was now just within reach. The stadium before them was massive, standing a few stories high and stretching no less than a dozen city blocks in width, not to mention the sharp spiral atop the building that rose far past where their eyes could see, seemingly brushing the puffy white clouds overhead. There were already a number of other schools gathered nearby; one rather eccentric student had just greeted them quite loudly, apparently already familiar with a few among them- likely from the sports festival. Yaoyorozu watched curiously as a teacher from another school rushed up to Aizawa with a friendly grin, instantly chatting away despite his apparent disinterest. All around them were new people hailing from across the country, all gathered here with the same purpose: a bustling crowd of aspiring heroes just like them.

Yaoyorozu smiled, an excited shiver rising through her at the reality of it all. It felt much too surreal. There were so many people to meet, so many quirks to discover, so many heroes to compete with. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she imagined leaving in just a few hours with her new hero license in hand.

The students tried not to push as they made their way towards the large glass doors leading into the stadium, Yaoyorozu breathing an optimistic sigh as her heart pounded with anticipation.

"Shut up, damn nerd!"

She glanced over her shoulder at the commotion behind her, partially blocked by the bustling crowd. She saw Midoriya waving his hands back and forth, smiling awkwardly while Bakugo hurled some string of curses at him. The blonde shook an angry fist at the poor boy as Kirishima tried sheepishly to calm him down. If it were an average day, no one would have paid much attention to either of them during their bickering; however, considering recent circumstances, it was quite a welcome sight.

Bakugo had been better lately. Over the past few weeks, he had become less hostile, less withdrawn, and even slowly began speaking to his classmates once again. There was noticeably less tension, less bitterness clouding around him, much to everyone's relief, as bit by bit, he was gradually returning to his confident, brash, distractingly loud self. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this change included his return to old habits of picking fights with Midoriya, but this was something even the victim himself was thankful for. It had been difficult for Midoriya to watch his friend lock himself away, isolating himself in trying to face the festering pain alone. He knew it hurt, but he also knew Bakugo's turmoil went far beyond his own. Midoriya was never as close to... her. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, and he only wished there was something he could do to make it easier. Midoriya never once expected himself to be glad to be on the receiving end of Bakugo's ever-familiar insults, yet he was more than thrilled to see his friend regaining some sense of normalcy, even if it was minor, even if it was slow. He was sincerely happy for him, regardless of anything else.

Things were getting better. It wasn't just Bakugo either; everyone else had also begun to heal. It wasn't some sudden shift, as much as they wished it would be. The world was cruel like that. Many of them still had days where it was simply too difficult, the weight of their guilt and regret, their painful memories, becoming too much to bear. Moments in which their shells cracked and they could no longer remain strong as they so desperately wished to. And that was ok.

Not everyone was equally affected; in fact. many had all but moved on. It was easy for a fortunate majority who had not been as personally involved, but not everyone was so lucky.

It was funny, all the ways pain could manifest: some chose to let it fuel their training, others channeled it through household chores, and others still would simply let it out: often, for those more affected, in the form of burning, agonizing tears, spilled all too easily in some moment of quiet solitude.