The path stretched gently ahead beneath a bright, cloud-speckled sky. Wildflowers bloomed on either side of the trail, their colors dancing in the light breeze. The sun was warm but not overbearing, and the distant hum of cicadas sang lazily from the trees lining the hillside. It was, for once, a good day.

Bakugou walked at the front, not out of caution—today he didn’t feel the need to glare at every bush—but simply because his stride was longer and he didn’t like dawdling. His cape fluttered slightly with each step, and though he grumbled when Kaminari started humming again, he didn’t tell him to shut up. That was basically approval.

Kaminari was humming an upbeat traveling tune, plucking casually at his stringed instrument as he walked. “You know,” he said, looking back at the others, “if we get to the next town by nightfall, I might actually have time to play in a tavern that doesn’t smell like damp regret.”

“You’ll still smell like damp regret,” Kirishima teased, bumping his shoulder with a grin. His red scales shimmered in the sun, catching the golden light. He had his traveling cloak tied around his waist and carried a small sack of apples he’d found on a tree that morning, tossing one toward Midoriya without even looking.

Midoriya caught it—barely—and laughed. “You didn’t even aim!” he said, brushing it off and tucking it into his satchel. “I’ve been keeping track of the terrain. The river forks ahead, and if we take the right path, there’s supposed to be a meadow with glowing moss. Locals call it the ‘Lumenfield.’”

“That sounds… weirdly pretty,” Uraraka said, adjusting the strap of her pack. She was walking close to Midoriya, her wide-brimmed hat shading her face. “Do you think it’s magical?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But it might just be bioluminescent fungus.” Kaminari groaned. “You’re such a nerd.” “And you’re still singing that same song from yesterday,” Todoroki added dryly from the back, his tone quiet but deadpan. The others chuckled.

Uraraka smiled, looking back at him. “You’re smiling.” Todoroki blinked slowly. “I’m not.” “You are,” Midoriya agreed. “Slightly.”

They continued on, the sun warm on their backs, the air sweet with the smell of clover and pine. Their laughter echoed across the open fields as they talked—about nothing, about everything. No monsters today. No cursed ruins. Just a trail, a sky, and six companions who had somehow become something like a family.

It was, they all agreed silently, the kind of day worth remembering.