An unfamiliar sense of foreboding fell upon Eraser Head as he watched (L/N) fly off into the sunset. He briefly considered erasing his quirk, but immediately discarded it as an option. (L/N) was too high up now, and by the time Aizawa communicated that someone would need to catch him, he would be out of range. Besides, at the moment, the wellbeing of his injured student was his first priority. (L/N) would have to wait.

The rest of the class quickly stepped aside, making a gap in the circle around Yaoyorozu for their teacher to approach. Crouching next to the unconscious girl, Aizawa carefully wiped at her forehead with his scarf so he could assess the extent of her injuries.

"Iida." He said, directing his attention to the Class Representative. "I need you to find someone from the arena. Have them fetch the medical staff and bring them back here as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir!" With a quick bow, Iida took off for the building behind them, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

"In the meantime, I want the rest of you back on the bus. No arguing." He added at the first sounds of protest. "Ashido, you're allowed to stay." He said to the girl still supporting Yaoyorozu's head on her lap.

Staunching the flow of blood from the wound on her head, Aizawa placed two fingers on the side of Yaoyorozu's neck and was twenty seconds in to checking her pulse when he felt her start to stir.

"Easy, there. Easy." He said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving. "Yaoyorozu, do you remember what day it is?"

"I-It's the fourth of September." She answered weakly.

"And where are you right now?"

"Um, the uh... the provisional license exam. At the National Dagoba Arena."

"Good. That's good. How many fingers am I holding up?" Aizawa asked, raising his thumb, index, and middle finger.

"I-I see... ah." Wincing, the girl closed her eyes and placed a hand to her forehead.

"It's okay. Just breathe and try not to move too much."

Iida returned about ten minutes later trailed by two members of the medical staff. Fortunately, Yaoyorozu was relatively unharmed. Aside from a few scrapes and a sprained wrist from the fall, the worst of her injuries was the one she suffered to her temple and the resulting moderate concussion. Kazahana was understandably shaken, but physically he was fine. One of the medical staff was a healer and he was able to patch Yaoyorozu up so that when she boarded the bus, it was with nothing more than a few missed flakes of dried blood. The real damage would be that done to the class's morale.

"So, no one knows what made (L/N) flip and go all berserk?" Kaminari asked as he leaned out his seat to look up and down the bus aisle.

"It has to have been something to do with that guy he was yelling at." Sero said. "Anyone catch his name?"

"Akiharu something." Jiro replied. "It started with a 'Kaz'. Kazahaki, I think."

"Anyone ever heard of him before?" Sero asked.

There was an exchange of glances as they looked at each other, but none of them had ever heard the name before. Collectively, the class looked at Yaoyorozu who was sitting silently staring at her hands folded in her lap, unaware of the unspoken discussion being partaken around her. Out of all of them, she was the one who knew (L/N) the best; at all, really. They wondered if perhaps he had ever mentioned the name to her, but none of them were willing to ask. Instead, they locked themselves in a silent stalemate, trying to convince someone else to give voice to the question.

Rolling her eyes, Kyoka Jiro (who was sat on Yaoyorozu's left) maneuvered her earphone jack so it jabbed Kaminari painfully in the back of his neck. Jumping in his seat, Denki's shoulders leapt to his ears, and he released a yelp of pain. The sudden noise pulled Yaoyorozu from her thoughts, and she looked up at the source of the sound.

"What was that, Kaminari?"

"Er, I didn't... that wasn't..." He stuttered. Looking around for someone to help bail him out, he groaned internally upon the realization that no one was going to. "Uh, we were just..." Kirishima elbowed him in the side, "I... was just wondering if you uh, knew the guy (L/N) was... talking... to." He said, shooting Jiro and Kirishima a dirty look. "You know, if he, like, ever mentioned a Kazahaki, or something. If he ever mentioned him before."

Yaoyorozu's gaze fell back to her lap. "Sorry, no." She shook her head.

"Well, there was obviously some bad blood there." Sato said. "So it makes sense it's not something he'd talk about."

"Maybe he's some creep from (L/N)'s middle school." Mineta suggested. "The guy looked like a total perv."

"Takes on to know one." Ashido hissed.

"Yeah, man. Where do you get off calling someone else a creep." Sero asked.

"Hey, at least I don't try to hide it." Mineta said indignantly. "Besides, haven't you ever heard the saying, 'it's the quiet one's you have to look out for'? Say what you want about me, but I'm not the guy who just gave someone a concussion."

Yaoyorozu's jaw tightened and her hands slowly curled into fists, balling up the fabric of her skirt. She knew what it was like to have people talk about her behind her back. Wealth and beauty brought with it a certain amount of alienation from her peers growing up, as well as a handful of malicious rumors. Unsurprisingly, she'd never approved of the way the rest of the class gossiped about (L/N). It made her uncomfortable at the best of times, but something was different about the way they were talking about him now. Maybe it was how much closer she felt to (L/N) or maybe it was the way they were villainizing him, but as she sat holding her tongue, all she felt for her classmates was contempt.

They didn't know him; they never even tried. When was the last time one of them had talked to him, she asked herself silently. When was the last time one of them had bothered to try to make him feel included?

When Yaoyorozu first met (L/N), she thought he was similar to Bakugou, and that his aversion toward people was born from some inflated sense of superiority. After she learned the truth about his past from Kendo, she began to think, sadly, that he had simply given up on people. But in the past month she had come to realize she'd gotten it all backwards. He hadn't given up on people, people had given up on him. So what right did people have to judge?

"Alright, that's enough." Mr. Aizawa said. He didn't yell, he never did, but his voice was firm and filled the entirety of the bus, instantly ending the class's conversation. "What happened with (L/N) was unfortunate, yes. But I'm sure we can all agree it wasn't malicious or intentional."

"But... er..."

"Go ahead, Kaminari."

"Sorry, sir. It's just, how can you be sure?" The blonde asked. "How can any of us be sure what (L/N) meant to do? It's not like we really know the guy."

"And whose fault is that?" Aizawa scrutinized. "Maybe if any of you had tried a bit harder to build a better relationship with your classmate, you wouldn't be so quick to sit and pass judgement. With the exception of Yaoyorozu and perhaps Bakugou, this class's treatment toward (L/N) has been disappointing at best, and at worst, prejudiced."

A tangible silence fell over the class. Most uncomfortably hung their heads while a few others cautiously glanced at Yaoyorozu who was still staring at her hands, and Bakugou who was slouched against the window, disinterested in the whole affair.

"Listen," Aizawa continued, "things like this are going to happen. As future heroes, all of you need to acknowledge that people are going to get hurt. And the most difficult part of that is going to be accepting that fact that, sometimes, it's going to be your fault.

"We can't save everyone. It's something you've probably heard us old war horses say before, but it's not something you really learn until it happens. And best-case scenario, it's because you didn't get there in time. I don't say all this to scare you, but it's my job as your teacher to prepare you as best I can, and that includes making sure you all understand the weight that comes with being a hero. One day you're going to make a bad call, and it's going to get someone killed."

Other teachers might have handled the discussion more delicately, he knew, but sugarcoating had never been his style. Aizawa was aware of the reputation he'd built for himself because of that fact, but in his opinion, it only made the truth that much more bitter. Besides, trying to hide that truth would be an insult to his students. They deserved to know the reality of their situation, without disguise or concealment. If they were old enough to be heroes, they were old enough to face the fact that the world was a cruel place. He'd seen too many greenhorns lose their way because no one had properly prepared them, and he refused to allow that to happen to these kids.

From about halfway down the bus, Uraraka raised a timid hand. "Sir," she asked, "how can we avoid that? How do we make sure we don't make a bad call?"

Every one of them was looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell them that if they trained hard enough and prepared themselves for anything that they might have a chance. It was, perhaps, the most difficult part of his job as a teacher; watching the light leave their eyes. But as their teacher it was up to him to make sure they understood, so he chose his next words very carefully.

"Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones." He told them. "But you still have to choose."

Even as he said it, he could see some of them relinquish that last trace of childlike hope. He had to remind himself that it was a good thing. If they were going to survive as pros, they would have to grow up faster than most. And even though the shimmering glow of naivete had been extinguished, the light in their eyes would one day return, born of a fire fueled by conviction and resolve.

"Each and every one of you is going to hurt someone." Aizawa said finally. "And when that day comes, the best thing you can hope for is that the people watching don't judge you too harshly for it."