Class 3-A was sent to the tropical side of Japan for a nature-based quirk study trip. Lush trees, glowing plants, and strange animal calls surrounded their cabin.

Katsuki, restless as ever, wandered off alone during a hike—and got lost. His comms died, and as he lit a small explosion to see, dozens of glowing eyes stared back at him. Before he could react, a soft whistle echoed, and the creatures scattered.

Then you appeared.

Barefoot, dressed in woven greens and beads that glowed faintly in the dim light—you looked like part of the forest itself.

“You shouldn’t use fire here,” you said gently. “It scares them.”

Katsuki scowled. “Tch. They’ll live.”

You only smiled. “Maybe. But the forest remembers fear.”

When he followed you through the trees, the path seemed to open just for you. You led him to a glowing waterfall clearing, animals drinking peacefully nearby. The forest pulsed with quiet energy—and even he could feel it.

“This place… it’s alive,” he muttered.

“It’s always been alive,” you said softly. “You just never listened.”

Something about your calm voice, the way the air seemed to move around you—it stirred something in him. For once, Katsuki didn’t feel the need to yell.

You stepped closer, hand hovering near his chest. “Your fire doesn’t scare the forest. It just… burns too loud.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah? Guess that’s just how I am.”

You smiled. “Then maybe the forest can teach you to burn softer.”

When you guided him back to the edge of the woods, dawn light filtered through the leaves. Before he left, you pressed your hand to his chest.

“The forest listens,” you whispered.

He covered your hand with his. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll start listenin’ too.”

And when he rejoined his class, his usual fire felt different—steady, quieter, like the forest had left its mark on him.