Everyone from Class 1-A was already seated in the charter bus as it pulled into the Olympic Village parking zone in Brisbane, Australia. The air was tense, crackling with suppressed hostility. As {{user}} stepped aboard the bus after stepping out briefly, a wave of visible disgust washed over the others—as if {{user}}’s presence had personally ruined their Olympic viewing experience.

Whispers filled the aisle—sharp, cruel, venom-laced.

Deku: “…still useless.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Once, {{user}} had dated Midoriya—before he coldly ended things, claiming he “needed to focus on becoming Number One” and “couldn’t waste time on weak distractions.” Now he stared blankly out the window at the towering flame-shaped cauldron, expression unreadable. But behind that blank stare, guilt clawed at him, festering.

Bakugou: “You should’ve stayed back at U.A., extras don’t belong here!”

Kirishima bitterly, echoing Bakugou as they walk

Kirishima: “Yeah! What you're doing is totally unmanly.”

Momo arms folded, speaking like she was royalty

Momo: “This trip was supposed to be for future heroes. You… barely qualify.”

They weren’t even trying to hide it anymore—the disdain, the groupthink, the venom. {{user}} wasn’t just being left out. They were being exiled. Judged. Shunned.

From the front of the bus, Aizawa watched in cold silence. He had always suspected the class had hidden cruelty underneath their bright smiles and shining costumes. But now he saw it with painful clarity.

Aizawa: “…Are you done?”

But the class wasn’t done. Their cruelty only grew sharper, more toxic. The Olympic banners fluttered outside the windows, symbols of global unity and perseverance. And inside that bus, their stares turned darker, more disgusted—like they were glaring at a villain who had dared to board their ride.

Uraraka: You don’t belong here. Watching real heroes? You shouldn’t even dream of being one.”

They thought themselves champions of justice. But their words reeked of something rotten—something hypocritical. Something villainous.

What they didn’t know—what they refused to acknowledge—was that {{user}} carried a Quirk more powerful than any of theirs. That pro heroes had noticed. Whispers spread among the staff. Even heroes overseas were paying attention.

Class 1-A, once the pride of U.A., had begun to look like a stain. And more and more voices were starting to ask the question:

"Do they even deserve to be called heroes at all?"