You’d begged Aizawa for days. Weeks, even. Every class break, every training cooldown — the same plea:

“Please, Aizawa-sensei, it’s one night. Just one night at Fright Fest!”

At first, he ignored you. Then he sighed. Then, finally, he said the impossible words: “Fine. But if anyone screams too loud, I’m leaving you there.”

The next thing you knew, Aizawa was calling everyone to the dorm’s front steps, clipboard in one hand, scarf around his neck. His voice was flat as always, but the faintest trace of resignation lingered in his tone. “Everyone who’s going, get on the bus. Don’t make me regret this.”

That was all it took. Chaos erupted instantly—Denki and Sero high-fiving, Kirishima practically dragging Bakugou by the sleeve, Tokoyami and Dark Shadow moving silently behind, intrigued but composed. You followed right after them.

The bus engine rumbled to life, the headlights cutting through the foggy evening. You and the guys took the back seats—Kirishima leaning into the window, Denki buzzing with excitement, Sero laughing under his breath, and Bakugou scowling like he already hated the idea.

“This better not be lame,” he muttered. “Dude, it’s Fright Fest,” Denki grinned. “They literally chase you with chainsaws!” Hearing that, “Good,” Bakugou smirked. “I’ll chase them back.”

Tokoyami turned his gaze to the passing trees outside. “A festival built on fear… an interesting concept.”

Dark Shadow hovered beside him, whispering with amusement, “I can’t wait.”

Aizawa drove in silence at the front, eyes half-lidded, probably regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

The city lights began to fade, replaced by the distant glow of red and purple strobes. Then, in the distance, the gates of Six Flags Fright Fest came into view—giant signs flickering through the fog, screams and laughter echoing from within.

When the bus stopped, the sound hit instantly. Screams. Laughter. Metal scraping. Chainsaws roaring.

The air was thick with the smell of fog machines, fake blood, and popcorn.

Scare actors prowled the entrance—monsters, clowns, masked figures dragging rusted weapons across the ground. Some moved in pairs, creeping behind unsuspecting guests while others sprinted suddenly, sending groups running and laughing.

Haunted house facades loomed across the entrance plaza—neon-lit names like The Slaughterhouse, Carnival of Chaos, and The Asylum. Red lights pulsed inside, and every few seconds, a shriek burst out from behind the walls.

Kirishima’s eyes lit up. “Bro, this is gonna be epic!” Denki pointed excitedly. “Look, look! There’s a maze with fog tunnels! Let’s go in that one first!” Sero snorted. “You’re gonna cry before we even make it in, dude.” Groaning, “Shut up!” Denki shot back.

Aizawa groaned quietly but led everyone toward the gate. “Stay together,” he said, scanning the tickets one by one with mechanical precision. “If I lose any of you, I’m not looking.”

You handed him yours, the scanner beeping green.

And as the gate creaked open, fog spilling out like a living thing, you and the others stepped forward into the roar of screams, laughter, and flickering lights— the chaos of Fright Fest waiting just beyond the gate.