Chapter 8: The Unforeseen Simulation Joint
The morning sun had barely begun to crest the horizon when the alarms in the Sheets estate chirped with a persistent, digital bite. For Sherlock, 5:30 AM was a time that should only exist in the abstract. His body felt heavy, his brain foggy from the "potential" Arthur had insisted he cultivate through grueling late-night theory sessions. By the time he reached the UA gates, he was a ghost in a black hoodie, clinging to a thermos of black coffee as if it were a high-tech life-support system.
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was already charged with a restless, nervous energy. Shota Aizawa stood at the podium, looking even more sleep-deprived than Sherlock, his eyes bloodshot and hidden behind his usual dry gaze.
"For today's Hero Basic Training," Aizawa began, his voice a low, grating rasp that demanded immediate silence, "it's turned into a class with three instructors: me, All Might, and one more."
The class hummed with a collective wave of curiosity.
"Excuse me!" Sero called out, leaning forward. "What'll we be doing?"
Aizawa held up a card with the word RESCUE printed in bold, blue letters.
"Disasters, shipwrecks, and everything in between. It's rescue training."
"Rescue, huh? Sounds like it'll be a lot of work," Kaminari groaned, though a grin played on his lips.
"This is what being a hero is all about! I'm getting pumped!" Kirishima shouted, slamming his fists together.
"The site is a bit far, so we'll be going there by bus," Aizawa continued, ignoring the growing chatter. "That is all. Get ready. You can wear your costumes or not, depending on how suited they are for rescue work."
Sherlock sighed, sliding his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. Rescue training. A high-variable environment with a thousand points of failure. This is going to require a lot of glucose.
The Bus Ride: A Study in Chaos and Calm
As the class boarded the bus, the students realized the interior wasn't a standard rows-and-aisles setup. It was an open-layout with long benches facing each other, making Iida's complex, numbered boarding strategy completely useless.
Sherlock moved toward the very back row, seeking the corner with the least amount of sunlight. He sat down, leaned his head against the vibration-dampened glass of the window, and closed his eyes. He had been awake for three hours and had already reached his social quota for the week.
"Is this seat taken, Sherlock-san?"
The voice was soft and melodic, slicing through his attempt at a nap. Sherlock opened one eye to see Momo Yaoyorozu standing there, her posture perfect even on a moving vehicle.
"The bus is mostly empty, Momo. Sit wherever you like," Sherlock muttered, though he shifted his long coat slightly to give her room.
"You look exhausted," she noted, sitting gracefully beside him. "Did you stay up late reviewing the rescue manuals?"
"I stayed up late existing," Sherlock replied, his eyes closing again. "My father believes that a 'Recommendation Student' shouldn't need sleep. He calls it 'biological optimization.' I call it a slow descent into madness."
Momo looked at him with a flash of genuine sympathy. "I understand. The pressure of a family legacy can be quite... heavy. My parents also have high expectations, but I try to view it as a responsibility to the public. If we are gifted with such versatile Quirks, we must ensure they are polished to perfection."
"Polish implies friction, Momo," Sherlock whispered, his voice drifting into the low hum of the engine. "Friction is effort. Effort is... well, you know how I feel about unnecessary exertion."
Momo giggled softly, a sound that was surprisingly pleasant amidst the rowdy bus. "I know. You find it 'troublesome.' But look at the others. They don't see it as effort; they see it as life."
As if on cue, the rest of the class erupted. Tsuyu Asui remarked bluntly, "I usually say whatever is on my mind, ribbit. Midoriya-chan, your Quirk is like All Might's."
The bus went silent. Sherlock felt the shift in atmospheric tension. Even with his eyes closed, he could practically hear Midoriya's heart rate spike into the triple digits.
"W-w-what?! You think so? I mean, I... I'm..." Midoriya stammered, his hands waving frantically in the air.
"Wait, Tsu," Kirishima chimed in, hardening his arm to show off the jagged, rock-like texture. "All Might doesn't get hurt when he uses his! But it's a cool, flashy Quirk. My Hardening is strong against villains, but it doesn't look like much."
"I think it's plenty cool!" Midoriya countered, his fan-boy instincts kicking in. "It's a pro-level Quirk for sure!"
"If we're talking about flashy and strong, it's gotta be Todoroki and Bakugo, right?" Kaminari added, gesturing toward the two powerhouses.
"Bakugo-chan is always angry, so I don't think he'll be that popular," Tsuyu observed with brutal honesty.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU BRAT?! I'LL BE THE MOST POPULAR!" Bakugo screamed, standing up and shaking the entire bus with his fury.
Sherlock watched the exchange through a squinted eye, a small, tired smirk playing on his lips. Beside him, Momo was shaking her head. "They are quite the handful, aren't they?"
"They're a statistical anomaly," Sherlock said. "The amount of energy they expend on shouting could probably power a small city for a fiscal quarter."
The Hydrophobic Revelation and Aerodynamics
The bus hit a slight bump as they transitioned onto the highway. Kaminari, who was still standing and gesturing wildly toward Bakugo, fumbled his open water bottle. A large splash of liquid flew across the aisle, landing directly on the deck of cards Sherlock had been subconsciously "priming" in his lap.
"Oh, crap! Sherlock, I'm so sorry!" Kaminari yelled, reaching for a napkin. "I just ruined your whole deck! They're gonna turn to mush!"
Midoriya leaned over, his eyes wide. "If the cellulose fibers absorb that much water, the capillary action will destroy the molecular bonds—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The water didn't soak in. Instead, it beaded up into perfect, silver-like spheres and rolled off the surface of the black-and-red cards as if they were made of polished diamonds. Sherlock gave the cards a light, effortless flick, and every last drop of moisture vanished, leaving the paper bone-dry.
"It's not wet?" Uraraka gasped, leaning in. "How is that even possible?"
Sherlock held up a card, the crimson design gleaming under the fluorescent bus lights. "It's not 'just' paper. Anything I process with my Quirk and maintain contact with undergoes a Molecular Glaze. It creates a high-frequency tension field—a hydrophobic barrier. Water, blood, or almost any liquid cannot penetrate the fibers. I'm essentially immune to liquid-based interference."
"Any liquid?" Kaminari asked, eyes wide.
"Almost," Sherlock replied. "Oil is the exception. The viscosity and chemical structure of petroleum-based liquids can penetrate the glaze if the exposure is prolonged. But as for water? I could fight in a monsoon."
Class Verdict
"Whoa! So you're like the ultimate counter for someone with a water or liquid-type Quirk!" Kaminari shouted. "But wait... that doesn't change the fact that you're still using paper, right? I mean, water-proof or not, if Bakugo blasts them with heat, they'll still turn to ash. Or if Todoroki freezes the air around them, they'll get brittle and snap."
Sherlock sighed. "I'm aware of my limitations, Kaminari. I'm a technician, not a tank."
Izuku Midoriya: Hydrophobic molecular alignment... he thought, his pen moving at a blur. He's eliminated 50% of the environmental counters for his Quirk. But the energy cost to keep that glaze active must be the reason for his low stamina. He's sacrificing physical endurance for molecular perfection.
Bakugo Katsuki: The blonde boy glared at the dry cards. Tch. So it doesn't get wet. Big deal. Fire doesn't care if you're dry. I'll still blast those toys into confetti.
Todoroki Shoto: Shoto's heterochromatic eyes narrowed. He's anticipating elemental weaknesses. He's smarter than he looks, but a molecular glaze won't stop the sheer force of a glacier.
Arrival: The Golden Dome
The bus pulled up to a massive, translucent dome. Inside was a world of engineered disasters—shipwrecks, landslides, fires, and ruins.
"Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint," the Space Hero Thirteen announced.
The class cheered, the awe and excitement reaching a fever pitch. Sherlock looked at the Central Plaza.
The cost of maintaining these different biomes must require a dedicated power plant, he thought.
Aizawa stepped forward. "Alright, listen up. First, we'll—"
Aizawa stopped. The lights in the facility flickered and died. A swirling, purple-black void opened in the center of the plaza, and a hand reached out from the darkness.
"Stay back!" Aizawa shouted, his goggles snapping over his eyes. "Thirteen, protect the students!"
"What is that?" Kirishima asked, squinting. "Is the lesson starting?"
Sherlock's hand went instinctively to his holster. His eyes tracked the hooded figures emerging from the mist. The displacement of light... that isn't a simulation.
"Don't move!" Aizawa yelled. "Those are Villains."
A man covered in severed hands stepped out of the portal, his voice raspy. "Thirteen... Eraserhead... the schedule said All Might would be here. But he isn't. I wonder if he'll come if we kill some of these kids?"
Sherlock's heart rate spiked, but his face remained a mask of cold logic. He turned to Momo, who had already stepped into a defensive stance.
"Momo," Sherlock said, drawing three cards. "The nap is definitely over."