Chapter 43: The Vice Rep's Declaration of War

Aizawa-sensei's wheelchair had barely finished squeaking its way out of the classroom when the atmosphere, previously tense and solemn, exploded. The Sports Festival announcement had been like tossing a match into a powder keg. Ambition, raw and electric, crackled in the air.

"Hey, Bakugo!" Kirishima yelled over the uproar, slamming his hardened fist into his other palm. "This is the perfect time for the world to see your power! It's gonna be a super manly battle!"

"Shut up, Shitty Hair!" Bakugo retorted, though a wild, bloodthirsty grin spread across his face. "I don't need you to tell me! I'm going to crush them all!"

"Girls, we have to think about how to make our Quirks look spectacular!" Mina Ashido exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically to Toru and Ochako. "We have to get the attention of the hero agencies! Costumes are key! And the final moves!"

In the midst of the chaos, Izuku's small group instinctively gathered.

"The key will be endurance and versatility," Izuku muttered, his pen already flying across the pages of his notebook. "The first rounds are usually mass elimination events, obstacle courses… Uraraka, your control over your own gravity to lighten your weight will be crucial. Momo, your ability to create specific tools on the fly will give you an immense tactical advantage. And Toru, your potential for stealth and misinformation is…"

To escape the growing chaos and be able to talk more calmly, they decided to head to lunch. Izuku, embracing his role as class representative, walked to the door, closely followed by his friends. He opened it with a determined gesture and… froze.

The buzz from Class 1-A died instantly.

The hallway was completely blocked. A huge crowd of students from other classes, mainly from 1-B and the general studies courses like 1-C, stood there. They weren't shouting. They weren't booing. They were just there, watching them. A wall of bodies and silent stares, a mixture of curiosity, envy, and a barely contained hostility. It was far more intimidating than any shout.

Bakugo, true to his nature, was instantly irritated. The hallway was his, his class's, and these nobodies were obstructing it. With a snort of disdain, he tried to push his way through the crowd.

"Move it, you damn extras. I don't have time to waste on a bunch of gawkers."

A figure stepped forward, physically blocking his path. It was a guy from the general studies course, with messy purple hair, deep dark circles under his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights, and a gaze that was sharp and intelligent. Hitoshi Shinso.

"Well, well. So these are the famous members of Class 1-A," he said, his voice a lazy drawl, yet laced with irony. "The ones who survived a villain attack. From what I can see, the experience has made you quite arrogant."

Bakugo stopped, his predatory smile replaced by a scowl of pure rage.

"And who the hell are you to talk to me? Get out of my way before I blow your face off."

"He's right!" another voice exclaimed. A boy from Class 1-B, with silver hair and a sturdy build, joined Shinso. It was Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, and he was clenching his fists. "Don't act like you're all that just because you got lucky and fought some villains! We've been working our butts off too! Don't think you can just relax!"

The tension was so thick you could feel it on your skin. Bakugo began to lower his hands, small sparks already crackling in his palms. He was a second away from starting a war in the hallway.

But before he could respond with an explosion, a hand rested on his shoulder. The gesture was gentle, but with a firmness that surprised him.

"Bakugo-san, please," said Momo Yaoyorozu, her voice quiet but with a tone that brooked no argument. "Let me handle this. You are a key part of our class; don't lower yourself to their level."

Bakugo turned, staring at her in disbelief. The rich girl was giving him orders? But there was something in her eyes, a steely calm he had never seen before. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but to everyone's amazement, he took a step back, ceding the spotlight to her.

Izuku, seeing the play, silently moved to Momo's side. He said nothing, but his posture was a clear gesture of support from the class rep to the vice rep. He was giving her the stage.

Momo took a step forward, her posture impeccable, her chin held high. She addressed Shinso and the crowd, her voice clear and devoid of emotion.

"Please excuse my classmate. The tension before the festival is high for everyone," she said, her tone so formal and polite it disarmed the initial aggression. "I am Momo Yaoyorozu, the Vice Class Representative of Class 1-A. I understand your curiosity and your competitive spirit, but you are obstructing the hallway. May I ask the purpose of this congregation?"

Shinso smirked, a twisted smile that didn't reach his tired eyes.

"I came to see the competition. And to tell you not to get complacent," he said, drawing out his words. "Many of us ended up in other courses not for a lack of power, but because of a biased entrance exam that doesn't value all types of Quirks. The Sports Festival is our chance to prove that the initial class assignments were a mistake. And for those in the hero course who rest on their laurels to be replaced. This, Yaoyorozu-san, is a declaration of war."

Momo listened attentively to every word. She didn't interrupt him. She nodded slowly, as if considering his words with the seriousness they deserved. And then, she began her counterargument. There was no anger in her voice. No disdain. Only a cold, precise, and absolutely crushing logic.

"I understand your frustration with the exam system, and your competitive spirit is precisely what U.A. aims to foster," she began, her voice maintaining an even and calm tone that was somehow more intimidating than any shout. "However, your premise, and that of this congregation, is fundamentally flawed."

She paused for a moment, capturing everyone's attention.

"First, you assume that we feel superior for having survived the attack. I assure you, it is quite the opposite. The incident at the USJ showed us in the most brutal and direct way just how far we are from being true heroes. It showed us our fear, our weaknesses, and the real price of failure. We watched our teachers nearly die to protect us. What we feel isn't arrogance. It's the weight of a responsibility we may not yet be ready to bear."

Her gaze swept over the crowd, and several students looked down, uncomfortable.

"Second," she continued, her voice gaining a steel edge, "you speak of this as a 'declaration of war.' It's a dramatic, but redundant, metaphor. The Sports Festival is already, by its very nature, the battlefield where all of us, without exception, will prove our worth. Coming here to block our door and issue verbal challenges is not the act of a strong and confident rival. It is a manifestation of insecurity. An attempt to intimidate because you fear that what we saw, what we lived through, has given us some kind of advantage."

The blow was direct and precise. Shinso's brow furrowed, his confidence wavering.

"And perhaps we do have one," Momo admitted, her voice now a whisper that forced everyone to lean in to listen. "Because we have seen the true face of danger. We have already fought for our lives. That experience doesn't make us 'better' than you. But it has made us… different."

She straightened up, her gaze now hard and defiant.

"So I suggest to you, and to everyone else, that instead of wasting your time and energy here, in this hallway, you go back to your classrooms and train. Because we will be. And in two weeks, in the arena, we will not face you with arrogance. We will face you with the determination of those who have already looked death in the face. Compete with that."

Momo's speech, delivered without a single shout, without a single insult, left the crowd in stunned silence. She had completely disarmed their hostility, not with a threat, but with an uncomfortable and utterly respectable truth. She had told them that yes, they were different, but not because they were better, but because they had been broken and had begun to rebuild themselves.

Shinso and Tetsutetsu were speechless. There was nothing they could say in reply.

Slowly, like a receding tide, the crowd began to disperse. There were no more challenging looks, but rather thoughtful expressions, a newfound caution. They had come to intimidate and had left being lectured by a girl with a ponytail who hadn't even raised her voice.

Jiro, who had watched the whole thing from the back of the group, let out an appreciative whistle.

"Damn… Momo's scary when she gets serious."

"That was amazing!" Ochako whispered to Izuku, her eyes shining with pride for her friend. "She didn't shout once, but she completely shut them down!"

Bakugo, furious at being upstaged and at the fact that Momo's strategy had worked perfectly, simply grunted a Tsk and shoved his way through now that the hallway was clear.

Now that the adrenaline had passed and the crowd was gone, she let out a small, trembling sigh, almost imperceptible. It was the only sign of the enormous tension she had endured. Izuku gave her a proud and supportive smile. She saw him and returned a small, tired smile, a gesture of silent gratitude.