Chapter 8: Apathy Amidst Anarchy
The USJ was a cacophony of chaos. In the Landslide Zone, Shoto Todoroki had turned the tables on the villains with an iceberg the size of a small mountain, his expression a mask of cold fury. In the Ruins Zone, Katsuki Bakugo and Eijiro Kirishima were a whirlwind of explosions and hardened fists, tearing through their ambushers with savage glee. In every zone, the students of Class 1-A were afraid, outmatched, but fighting back with everything they had. They were learning, in the most brutal way possible, what it meant to be heroes.
At the entrance, the situation was just as dire. Kurogiri, a sentient gateway of death, had the exit completely blocked. He had gravely injured Thirteen, whose own Quirk was now useless. Tenya Iida, the students' only hope of escape, was poised to run, but couldn't get past the villain's guard.
"It is futile," Kurogiri's voice echoed. "Your role is to die here, unheard."
Saitama watched the scene unfold with the detached interest of someone watching a poorly-rehearsed play. He had placed his bento box carefully on the ground a safe distance away. He wasn't participating. This wasn't his job. His job was to check for fire hazards and make sure the floors were mopped. Fighting a swarm of theatrical villains wasn't in his contract.
Mina Ashido and Hanta Sero, in a desperate move, launched a combined attack on Kurogiri. Sero's tape shot out, aiming for the metal brace on Kurogiri's neck, while Mina flung corrosive acid. Kurogiri simply swirled, allowing the attacks to pass harmlessly through his misty form before reforming.
"A valiant effort," he stated, preparing a counter-attack that would surely incapacitate them.
He moved to warp directly behind Sero. His path took him right past Saitama.
Saitama wasn't paying attention to the villain. He was trying to get a better view of the fight in the central plaza. The teacher, Aizawa, was actually quite skilled, he thought. But that big bird-monster he was fighting was a problem. To get a clearer line of sight, Saitama took a single, casual step to his left.
His shoulder connected solidly with something that felt surprisingly firm within Kurogiri's misty form.
WHUMP.
It wasn't a heroic check or a powerful shove. It was the simple, unmovable physics of an ordinary man stepping into the path of another. Except, the ordinary man had the effective mass of a neutron star. The impact sent Kurogiri, a being made mostly of fog, careening through the air like a bowling pin. He crashed into a nearby wall with enough force to stun him for three critical seconds, his misty form flickering erratically.
"NOW, IIDA-KUN!" Uraraka screamed.
Iida didn't hesitate. His engines roared to life, and he shot past the stunned villain and out the doors, a blue and white streak on a desperate mission for help.
Sero stared at Saitama, his jaw hanging open. "Dude! What was that?!"
Saitama looked back at him, confused by the attention. "What was what? The mist guy was blocking my view. I moved."
Before anyone could process the sheer, unintentional effectiveness of that statement, their attention was drawn back to the plaza. Aizawa's fight was over. He was on the ground, his arm twisted at a sickening angle, his head being slammed into the concrete by the monstrous Nomu. The man with the hands, Tomura Shigaraki, cackled with insane glee.
"You're so cool, Eraserhead," Shigaraki rasped, scratching his neck furiously. "But our Nomu here is a bio-engineered anti-Symbol of Peace. You didn't stand a chance."
The students at the entrance watched in absolute horror as the Nomu crushed their teacher. For the first time all day, Saitama's blank expression shifted. It wasn't anger. It wasn't fear. It was a flicker of something cold and familiar. He had seen countless monsters in his own world. He knew their nature. And this Nomu, this mindless puppet of destruction, was a monster through and through. The man with the hands was just a petulant child with a dangerous toy.
The Nomu raised a fist to deliver the final, killing blow to Aizawa.
BOOM!
The doors to the USJ burst open, flying off their hinges. A colossal figure stood silhouetted against the daylight. He was not smiling.
"It's fine now," All Might's voice boomed, filled with a righteous fury that made the very air vibrate. "I AM HERE."
The remaining students cried out in relief. Shigaraki's posture changed from glee to ecstatic excitement. "Ah," he hissed. "We were waiting for you. The final boss has arrived."
Saitama looked from the broken, bleeding Aizawa, to the hulking Nomu, and then to the new arrival. The man was huge, muscular, and radiated an almost comical amount of heroic energy. Saitama felt a tiny, almost imperceptible spark of interest.
"Finally," he muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the ensuing chaos. "Someone who might not be boring."