The bus engine groaned as it came to a stop, its headlights dimming against the wall of fog that blanketed the forest. The air was cold — sharp enough to sting — and the smell of pine and damp soil filled everyone’s lungs. When the doors hissed open, you and Class 1-A stepped out, blinking at the sight before you: a lone wooden cabin surrounded by towering Appalachian pines, their dark shapes stretching endlessly into mist.
Aizawa stood in front of the group, scarf fluttering slightly in the mountain breeze. Aizawa: “Alright, everyone… welcome to the Appalachian Mountains.” His voice carried no excitement — just that usual dry, sleep-deprived tone that somehow made the moment even eerier.
Mina clutched her bag. “W–wait, this place is supposed to be haunted, right?! Like, people go missing here!”
Kirishima grinned, squaring his shoulders. “Haunted or not, this place is manly! A real test of courage!”
Bakugo groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Tch. You all sound like a bunch of scared brats. It’s just trees and fog.”
Shoto’s gaze swept over the dark treeline, his tone calm. “These mountains are ancient. The rock layers here are older than most of Japan itself.”
Momo nodded thoughtfully, adjusting her backpack. “Yes… it’s said the Appalachian range existed long before the dinosaurs. The geological formations here are millions of years old.”
Iida, already holding a flashlight, raised his arm with his usual fervor. “Regardless of age or history, we must proceed with discipline! Let us respect the environment and Mr. Aizawa’s instructions!”
A distant sound — like a low, mournful whistle — drifted through the trees. Everyone paused.
Tsuyu’s voice was quiet. “Ribbit… this place feels weird. Like… the forest is watching us.”
Uraraka hugged herself, glancing around nervously. “Yeah… I feel it too. Like something’s… there. Watching.”
Jirō snorted softly but her hand subconsciously brushed the jack plugs on her earlobes. “Relax, Ochako. It’s probably just the wind messing with the trees.”
Tokoyami tilted his head toward the shadows. “Or perhaps the forest has a soul. The Appalachians are older than civilization — maybe the darkness here remembers.”
Dark Shadow peeked out from behind him, whispering: “I don’t like it here…”
Meanwhile, Midoriya was already jotting frantic notes in his journal, muttering to himself. “The Appalachian range… ancient topography, unusual fog density, local legends about spirits and cryptids… maybe even the origin of regional myths like—”
Bakugo cut him off with a scowl. “Oi, nerd. Save the essay for class. No one cares about your ghost homework.”
Kaminari chuckled nervously. “Heh… jokes on you guys. I actually like horror movies. As long as it’s not, y’know, happening to me.”
Mina side-eyed him. “Bet five bucks you’re the first one who screams.”
Sero grinned. “You’re on.”
You stood among them, the mountain air heavy and cold against your skin. The quiet felt… wrong. No crickets, no birds. Just the whisper of trees shifting under some invisible weight.
Aizawa rubbed his temple, clearly regretting every decision that led him here. “Everyone unpack. The cabin’s divided into two sleeping areas — pick a bunk and stay near the group. And no wandering into the forest after dark.”
A few students laughed, but even their voices felt muffled, swallowed by the mist.
As the sun began to sink behind the peaks, the sky turned bruised purple — and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw movement between the trees. Something tall. Watching.
Aizawa glanced toward the woods briefly, eyes narrowing before he muttered under his breath: “…Let’s just hope the only thing haunting us tonight is sleep deprivation.”
The forest didn’t answer — but it listened.