[h3]Datari Shun: [color=2EFEC8]The Glitch in the Matrix[/color][/h3][hr]
Hero school was more depressing than expected. Shun had begun the bus ride practically vibrating in his seat with anticipation; his head swiveling between the other inhabitants of the bus, an involuntary 'ooh' or 'ah' occasionally slipping out under his breath when a person with a visibly obvious quirk entered his field of view. Not that he could figure out what half of them did, but he was enthused nonetheless.

The excitement quickly faded as the silence fell over the bus. It was early, granted, but the atmosphere was far too grave for a bunch of teenagers in an enclosed space, like they were driving to a funeral instead of a test. Shun furrowed his brow and worked his jaw, repeatedly perking his head over and around the seat in front of him in a fidgety attempt to think of something to lighten the mood. He came up blank; his incessant squirming dying down into a relatively tame bouncing of his knee as he grew more and more discouraged. In the end, he opted to just stare mindlessly out the window. The sky was just as grim as the interior, as if the world itself shared the dreary feeling hanging over the would-be freshman class of Jigokuraku. Or perhaps it was the other way around. 

The rubble seemed like only a footnote tacked onto an already bleak experience at that point, but it hit home all the same. He never expected his high school career to take place at some glamorous, state-of-the-art institution, but the state of this city was just sad. The destruction littering the outskirts of town ruined any illusion of Kirisama being a quaint seaside community, instead painting it as a melancholy shadow of what it once was before it was ravaged by villainy. At least it would be good practice for navigating disaster zones in his future hero work.

He sighed briefly after his period of brooding, then shook his head to dispel any lingering negativity. He [i]was[/i] going to pass. Everyone else here was in the same boat as him; anyone that could utterly outclass him would've already gotten into a better school, right?
 

Stepping out of the bus made Shun wince. He'd dressed lightly to minimize the burden on his quirk, but he still wasn't expecting it to be so cold. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet in an attempt to generate heat as the - exam proctor? Proctor's five-year-old daughter? Sassy lost child? - explained the rules, pausing his movements in minor shock as she carelessly tossed the dummy into the bus. That definitely wasn't proper disaster response protocol. He supposed it was a gesture to emphasize the lack of a need for rescue training, but even so, that seems like a bad thing to be demonstrating to prospective heroes.

At the notice of the others starting to warm up, Shun's bouncing shifted into a series of light stretches. Forget the curriculum, focus on the task at hand. His quirk was suited for this. He should head farther away and let the slower people fight over any dummies near the bus. His gaze shifted toward the red haired girl and the walking lightbulb as they started shouting words of encouragement. Wait, who said they had to fight over the dummies at all? This was a rescue operation. Sort of.

[color=2EFEC8]"Uh, guys?"[/color] He chirped up rather loudly, trying to get as much attention as he could, [color=2EFEC8]"She never said we couldn't cooperate. If we divide the work up, we can get out of the cold faster [i]and[/i] look like better heroes! Mobility quirks can scout the area and direct the heavy hitters to the villains, then everyone else can gather all the dummies up beforehand and split them evenly; that way we'll all pass!"[/color] He planted his hands on his hips confidently, a friendly grin plastered on his face. He clearly wasn't even considering the possibility that he'd be laughed at or ridiculed, let alone end up causing the entire class to fail through some breach of the rules. They can't fail everyone, after all.