The Class That Cried Werewolf

15 - Grand Bout: Part 1

-Tatsuya's POV-

Ugh. I know I'm starting to sound like Bakugo now, but damn, Todoroki is pissing me off the most right now, more so than the Pomeranian or Monoma, and that's saying something. Yes, what happened to him was terrible, but he's not the only person in the world who has experienced terrible things. I may not have had a great childhood either, but I'm not holding anyone else to a standard. Many others likely had it just as bad, if not worse, than we did, and those people in the past have grown up as a result, for better or worse.

After having Todoroki confront us in that hallway, I decided to get some food from one of the stalls. It may not have been as good as Lunch Rush's cooking, but I did not feel like seeing anybody for a little while.

I returned to the field after getting some takoyaki to clear my head. My classmates were engaged in their own conversations, their voices blending into the lively atmosphere. Yet, amidst the chatter, I noticed a conspicuous absence of the girls from our class. A sense of curiosity tinged with concern pricked at my thoughts as I pondered their whereabouts.

"Get those foam fingers in the air; it's almost time for the last round! But before that, good news for everyone who didn't make it to the finals: since this is a sports festival, we've prepared some super-fun side games everyone can participate in! We've even brought in cheerleaders from America to get your blood pumping!" Present Mic's booming voice echoed across the field, signaling the impending start of the final round.

A sudden surge of overpowering perfume assaulted my senses, drawing my attention toward the source. There, in a dazzling display of vibrant colors and exuberant energy, stood the cheerleaders he had just mentioned. The heavy scent hung thick in the air, mingling with the already heady atmosphere. Why do people need so much perfume/cologne? I have no idea.

As the crowd's attention shifted towards the cheerleaders, Present Mic's exuberant tone faltered, replaced by a hint of confusion. His words trailed off, mirroring the puzzled expressions that flickered across the faces of both students and teachers alike. Mr. Aizawa's characteristic grumble punctuated the uneasy silence, his sharp gaze fixed on the unfolding scene with a mix of suspicion and apprehension.

Initially puzzled by Present Mic's exclamation, I scanned the field, searching for the cause of the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Amidst the vibrant chaos of the sports festival, a palpable undercurrent of discomfort and embarrassment hung in the air, emanating from a particular group of students. What I discovered left me reeling with disbelief.

"Looks like Class 1-A is going full-on FANSERVICE!!" Present Mic's thunderous voice reverberated throughout the arena, drawing attention to the unexpected spectacle unfolding before us.

Standing in a lineup were the girls of Class 1-A, adorned in identical outfits to the cheerleaders. The realization washed over me in waves, my cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. The sight of my classmates, usually so dignified and composed, now thrust into the spotlight of public scrutiny, elicited a rush of conflicting emotions within me.

Fortunately, my attempt to blend into the background succeeded, allowing me to observe the unfolding chaos without drawing any unwanted attention. Across the field, Yaoyorozu's reaction to the situation was palpably intense, her expression a mixture of anger and indignation as she confronted what appeared to be the culprits behind the spectacle.

"What, you tricked us?! You're gonna REGRET THIS!" Yaoyorozu yelled angrily, punctuated by a visible tick mark on her forehead as she vehemently brandished the pompoms in her hands.

Following her enraged gaze, I soon identified the source of her ire: Mineta and Kaminari, exchanging a triumphant thumbs-up amidst the chaos they had incited. Their smug expressions and gleeful gestures left no doubt as to their involvement, prompting a deep sigh of frustration and exasperation to escape my lips. As I watched their antics unfold, a wave of disappointment washed over me, mingling with a growing sense of irritation at their immature behavior. It was moments like these that made me question the true motivations behind their aspirations to become heroes, their penchant for such perverted tactics casting a shadow over their intentions.