Chapter 7: Unforeseen Simulation, Unimpressed Observer
"Has everyone made sure to use the restroom? We won't be making any stops."
Aizawa's unenthusiastic announcement was met with a chorus of excited chatter from the students of Class 1-A. They were aboard a large, private bus, on their way to a remote U.A. facility for a special class: Rescue Training. The mood was light, a stark contrast to the tension of the past few days following the media breach.
"I can't wait to see what the Unforeseen Simulation Joint is like!" Kirishima exclaimed, flexing an arm. "It's gonna be so manly!"
"I wonder which Pro Hero will be teaching us," Tsuyu Asui mused, a finger to her chin. "Aizawa-sensei, will All Might be there?"
Aizawa simply grunted, burrowing deeper into his sleeping bag near the front of the bus.
In the very last row, sitting alone, was Saitama. He wore his staff jumpsuit and stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past. He was not supposed to be here. He had planned on spending his afternoon trying out a new flavor of instant noodles and reading the manga volume he'd picked up yesterday. But Principal Nezu, in his infinite and often terrifying wisdom, had other plans.
The principal had called him in that morning. "Saitama-san," he had said, "due to the recent security breach, we are implementing heightened safety protocols. I would like you to accompany Class 1-A to their off-campus training exercise. Your official duty," he'd explained, "is to conduct a thorough, on-site inspection of the USJ's structural and environmental safety features. You will also ensure the facility's custodial readiness for the students."
Saitama had started to refuse—it sounded boring and involved a long bus ride. But then Nezu played his trump card, placing a large, elaborately wrapped box on his desk.
"This is a deluxe, triple-decker bento box, prepared personally by Lunch Rush," Nezu had said, his eyes twinkling. "It contains prime-cut steak, tempura prawns, and a limited-edition tamagoyaki. It is, of course, for your lunch."
And so, Saitama was here. His primary motivation for protecting a bus full of the world's most promising young heroes was the promise of a really, really good lunch.
They arrived at a massive domed structure. "Welcome," a figure in a puffy, astronaut-like suit greeted them. "To the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or as I like to call it, the USJ!"
The Pro Hero Thirteen began a speech about the responsible use of Quirks, about how powers designed for fighting can also be used to save. The students listened with rapt attention. Saitama, standing in the back, discreetly unwrapped his bento box just a tiny bit to smell it. The aroma of grilled steak was incredible. It was going to be a good day after all.
And then, the lights flickered and died. The central fountain sputtered. A swirling vortex of dark purple mist, like a wound in the very fabric of reality, opened up in the plaza below. From it, dozens and dozens of menacing figures began to emerge. A lanky man covered in dismembered hands, a hulking, bird-like creature with its brain exposed, and an army of low-level thugs.
Kirishima stepped forward. "Whoa, they even have fake villains! U.A. is so cool!"
Aizawa's entire demeanor shifted. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. "Stay back!" he commanded, pulling his yellow goggles over his eyes. "Those are real villains."
Panic began to set in. As Aizawa leaped down the stairs to engage the army of thugs alone, the purple mist coalesced before the students. It formed into a vaguely humanoid shape with glowing yellow eyes.
"Greetings," Kurogiri said, his voice a smooth, chilling baritone. "We are the League of Villains. We took the liberty of letting ourselves in. Our goal… is to kill the Symbol of Peace, All Might."
Saitama, who had been trying to decide whether to start with the steak or the tempura, finally looked up. He saw the purple mist-man, the guy with the hands, and the giant bird-monster. His brow furrowed slightly. "Is this part of the rescue training? It seems a bit over the top."
Kurogiri ignored him, his misty form expanding. "My role is to scatter you and torture you to death!"
The mist shot out, intending to engulf the students and teleport them across the facility. It rushed towards Bakugo and Kirishima, who leaped to attack it. It swirled around Uraraka and Sero. And a large tendril of it shot directly towards Saitama at the back of the group.
Saitama watched the purple fog approach him with mild curiosity. It washed over him, thick and cold. He felt a faint pulling sensation, like a weak magnet. And then… nothing. The mist swirled around him, unable to get a purchase, like water flowing around a solid, unmovable boulder. It simply slid off his form and continued past him.
Kurogiri, from the center of his being, felt the anomaly. His Warp Gate Quirk was absolute. It did not matter how strong a person was; if he targeted them, they were displaced. Yet this man… this bald man in a janitor's outfit… it was like trying to warp a hole in reality itself. It simply didn't work. The man wasn't nullifying his Quirk; he was just too… there.
Dismissing it as a fluke—perhaps the man had a personal teleport-nullifying Quirk—Kurogiri focused on the rest of the students, successfully scattering most of them to the various disaster zones.
When the chaos subsided, only a handful of students, Thirteen, and Saitama remained at the entrance. Thirteen was preparing to engage Kurogiri to allow Iida to escape. The other students were terrified. Aizawa was a tiny, overwhelmed figure fighting for his life in the plaza below.
Saitama looked at the carnage. He looked at the screaming students. He looked at the villains. Then he looked down at the precious, triple-decker bento box in his hands. He let out a long, weary sigh, the sound of a man whose peaceful lunch break had just been irrevocably ruined.
"This," he muttered to himself, "is going to be a huge pain."