Chapter 4 : Rotting Paradise

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After that encounter with Shoto, we stayed there for a while, indulging in each other's presence, before we were called back inside by Midoriya and his group so that we could prepare our things and everything for the docking process.

After getting everything ready, we already docked so we just had to wait a bit before we would go down from the boat since we didn't want to go when it was still too crowded. After getting off the boat, we met up with Aizawa-sensei and got on these completely armored black buses with the umbrella corporation logo embezzled on them and I grew uneasy and very anxious at that. If I had doubts about my previous worries, it is now without a doubt quite suspicious for the biggest pharmaceutical company in the world to get involved with something as merely a school summer trip.

However, it wasn't only me who grew pale faces when they saw our ride here. Almost every student did, including our teachers. I mean who wouldn't? Black armored vehicles with the umbrella logo on them. That's very suspicious, to say the least. I could see and hear everyone having to gulp and sweatdrop at the sight. The umbrella corporation is a big pharmaceutical company, so why would they as a big pharmaceutical company be here monitoring a school trip? With armored vehicles nonetheless.

As we got closer to the bus, I recognized the uniform that the men guarding the buses were wearing, it was for missions. Two men were guarding the bus assigned for class 1-A, both of them carrying large guns in their hands, specifically W870 TAC. Personally, it is one of my favorite shotguns and a deadly weapon of choice. They both had a utility belt wrapped around their waist, and I could recognize the small handguns they were holding, they were simple pistol guns. I sighed nervously at the sight.

"Why would they need to wear that and why are they carrying guns?" I accidentally said out loud nervously.
Shoto, who stood next to me with my bag in hand, grabbed my hand with his free one and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "Calm down, maybe it's for something important." He whispered into my ear calmly, but his eyes said otherwise as they held the same emotions I was feeling.

He's also not sure about what's going on and is scared and nervous. It's normal to be scared and nervous in this type of situation so I couldn't blame him because I was also in the same position as him, scared and nervous. But that still begs the question, why would they have prepared these things unless it was deemed needed. Shit, it seems like they're expecting something to happen. My gut feeling was right from the start, starting from now on I'll keep with guards up and on high alert. We don't know when it'll happen.

The people in front of us who were getting on the bus first had their IDs pulled out and checked. 'Shit. What if they recognize?' I realized in a panic. Thinking rationally about the possible incomes of what could happen if they did, they all turned out bad. So I settled on a simple solution. Wearing a disguise. Well I didn't anticipate that I would need one so I didn't come prepared with that, but I know someone who does, Shoto. Asking him for his cap politely, he dug through his everyday bag in search of my request.

Once obtained he handed it to me with a confused look, questioning why I would need to wear such a thing when it was already nighttime. I explained to him that I didn't like the way my hair looked, that it was all messy and tangled up from the multiple naps I took that day and so I didn't want anyone to see it. He still raised an eyebrow at me in both confusion and suspicion but decided to press no further.

I grabbed my bag from Shoto's hand, then I quickly stuffed my hair into the cap he gave to me and pulled it down closer to my face to cover it up. Fuck, I didn't think they'd check and everything, what are they looking for or after?! I got in front of Shoto and purposely blocked his view with my head, once it was my turn to have my identity checked. I fished out my wallet from my bag and handed him my ID.

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