Haruto's mother had decided that grocery shopping would be a "fun family activity."
This was a lie.
Grocery shopping with a toddler was not fun. It was a special kind of torture designed to test the limits of human patience.
"We need to pick up a few things," his mother said cheerfully, strapping Haruto into the shopping cart seat. "It'll be quick!"
*It's never quick,* Haruto thought, already resigned to his fate. *Grocery stores are where time goes to die.*
The automatic doors opened, and they were immediately assaulted by aggressive fluorescent lighting and the smell of produce that was trying very hard to seem fresh.
"Okay!" His mother pulled out a list. "Vegetables, rice, eggs, and—oh! We need to check if they have those organic tomatoes your father likes."
*We have tomatoes growing on the balcony,* Haruto thought. *We literally grow our own tomatoes. Why are we buying tomatoes?*
But his mother was already pushing the cart toward the produce section, so Haruto settled in for the long haul.
The produce section was packed. Apparently, everyone in the city had decided to buy vegetables at exactly the same time on a Saturday morning.
*This is hell,* Haruto thought. *Specifically, the circle of hell reserved for people who grocery shop during peak hours.*
"Excuse me," his mother said, navigating around another cart. "Sorry. Just need to—yes, thank you."
Haruto watched the chaos unfold around him. A kid was having a meltdown over bananas. An elderly man was arguing with the produce clerk about the firmness of avocados. Someone's quirk had accidentally made all the lettuce extremely cold, and now there was frost forming on the leaves.
*Just a normal Saturday,* Haruto thought.
They made it to the tomatoes. His mother began examining them with the intensity of a surgeon.
"These look good," she murmured, picking one up. "Nice and firm. What do you think, Haru?"
*I think they're tomatoes,* Haruto thought. *They're round and red and probably taste like tomatoes.*
"Good," he said out loud, because arguing about tomato quality seemed exhausting.
"That's my boy!" She placed several tomatoes in a bag. "You've got a good eye for produce!"
*I have no eye for produce. I just want to go home.*
As they moved through the store, Haruto noticed something odd. The plants in the store—the decorative ones near the entrance, the herbs in the organic section, even the cut flowers by the checkout—all seemed to be... aware of him.
*Oh no.*
He could feel them. All of them. Like dozens of tiny voices in the back of his head, all asking for attention at once.
*Not now,* Haruto thought at them desperately. *I'm in public. Be cool.*
The plants did not be cool.
As they passed the herb section, the basil plants suddenly perked up, their leaves becoming visibly greener and fuller.
"Oh!" A woman standing nearby noticed. "Did these just... grow?"
*Maybe,* Haruto thought. *Please don't look at me.*
"How strange," the woman's husband said. "Must be a good batch."
They moved on, and Haruto breathed a sigh of relief.
*Crisis averted. Just keep the quirk under control for fifteen more minutes.*
They made it through the rice aisle without incident. The canned goods section was similarly uneventful. Haruto was starting to think they might make it out of this grocery trip without disaster.
Then they reached the eggs.
His mother was comparing prices when Haruto felt it—that familiar sensation of his quirk activating without permission.
He looked down at his hands. They were glowing. Very faintly, but definitely glowing with a greenish light.
*No. No, no, no. Not here. Not now.*
"Haru? You okay, sweetie?" His mother noticed him staring at his hands. "Oh! Oh my, are you—is your quirk activating?"
*Yes, and I can't stop it, and we're in a grocery store, and this is going to be a disaster.*
The nearest plant—a decorative fern by the dairy section—began growing. Rapidly.
"Um," someone said. "Is that fern supposed to be doing that?"
The fern doubled in size in ten seconds. Then tripled. Its fronds spread out, knocking over a display of yogurt.
"CLEANUP IN DAIRY SECTION," someone announced over the intercom.
"Haru, sweetie, you need to stop," his mother said, trying to stay calm but clearly panicking. "Can you stop?"
*I'm trying!* Haruto concentrated on cutting off the flow of energy to the fern. It was like trying to stop a river with his hands. *Stop growing. Stop. STOP.*
The fern finally stopped, now approximately five feet tall and taking up a significant portion of the dairy aisle.
Store employees rushed over with concerned expressions.
"Did that child just—"
"Quirk accident," Haruto's mother said quickly. "I'm so sorry. He's still learning control."
"Ma'am, we're going to need you to pay for the damages—"
"Of course! Absolutely! How much for the fern and the yogurt?"
While his mother handled the situation with the employees, Haruto sat in the cart feeling approximately two inches tall.
*I'm a menace,* he thought. *A public menace. I can't even go grocery shopping without causing property damage.*
The other shoppers were staring. Some looked amused. Others looked concerned. One woman was taking pictures with her phone.
*Great. I'm going to be on social media. 'Toddler with plant quirk destroys dairy section.' That's my legacy.*
A kid around his age walked by and pointed. "That boy made the plant big!"
"Yes, sweetie," the kid's mother said, hurrying past. "That's why we practice quirk control."
*Thanks for the reminder,* Haruto thought bitterly. *Really helpful.*
His mother finished paying for the damages—which included the fern, twelve containers of yogurt, and a wheel of cheese that had been knocked over in the chaos. She looked stressed and embarrassed as she pushed the cart toward checkout.
"It's okay, Haru," she said, though her voice was tight. "Accidents happen. We'll work on control at home."
*I'm so sorry,* Haruto wanted to say. *I didn't mean to. I didn't want this to happen.*
But all that came out was, "Sorry, Mama."
Her expression softened. "I know, sweetie. It's not your fault. Your quirk is just... strong."
*Strong and uncontrollable. Great combination.*
At checkout, the cashier—a teenage girl with a quirk that made her eyes change color—gave them a sympathetic smile.
"Don't worry about it," she said, scanning their items. "Last week, a kid with a water quirk flooded the entire cereal aisle. You're not even in the top ten most chaotic shoppers this month."
*That's... oddly comforting,* Haruto thought.
"Really?" his mother asked, sounding relieved.
"Oh yeah. We get quirk accidents all the time. There's literally a line item in the budget for it." The cashier rang up the enormous fern. "Though I gotta say, this is the healthiest plant I've ever seen. Kid's got talent."
*Talent for destruction,* Haruto thought.
They packed up their groceries—including the giant fern, which his mother insisted on keeping since they'd paid for it—and headed to the car.
In the parking lot, they ran into the Midoriyas.
Of course they did.
"Oh! Yuki!" Inko waved, then noticed the fern. "That's... that's a very large plant."
"Quirk accident," Haruto's mother said wearily.
"Haru-kun grew it?" Izuku's eyes went wide. "In the store? That's so cool!"
*It's not cool,* Haruto thought. *It's embarrassing.*
"How big was it before?" Izuku asked, already pulling out his notebook.
"About six inches," Haruto's mother admitted.
Izuku scribbled frantically. "Six inches to five feet in how long?"
"Maybe thirty seconds?"
"THIRTY SECONDS?!" Izuku looked at Haruto with something like awe. "Haru-kun, that's incredible growth speed! That means your quirk has amazing potential for rapid deployment in emergency situations!"
*Or rapid deployment of chaos in grocery stores,* Haruto thought.
"It was an accident," Haruto said quietly.
"But still cool!" Izuku insisted. "All the best heroes had quirk accidents when they were learning! It's part of the process!"
*Name one hero who destroyed a dairy section,* Haruto wanted to challenge, but Izuku looked so enthusiastic that he didn't have the heart.
"We should probably get going," Haruto's mother said. "Need to get the frozen items home before they thaw."
"Of course! See you later!" Inko waved.
As they drove home, the giant fern taking up most of the backseat, Haruto's mother kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
"You know," she said finally, "when I was little, I accidentally froze my entire kindergarten classroom."
Haruto looked up. His mother had a quirk? She'd never mentioned it.
"Really?"
"Really. My quirk is temperature reduction—I can make things cold. Not very useful in daily life, but when I was five, I got upset about something and froze everything within ten feet. Desks, chairs, the teacher's coffee. Everything."
*That's actually kind of impressive,* Haruto thought.
"My point is," his mother continued, "everyone has quirk accidents. Especially when they're young and still learning. You're not the first, and you won't be the last."
"Destroyed yogurt," Haruto said, still feeling guilty.
"We needed yogurt anyway," his mother said. "And now we have twelve containers. That's just efficient shopping."
Despite himself, Haruto smiled a little.
When they got home, his father took one look at the fern and said, "Do I want to know?"
"Grocery store incident," Haruto's mother said.
"Ah." His father nodded sagely. "The dairy section?"
"How did you know?"
"The fern is still fresh. And you have the look of someone who's had to explain quirk accidents to store employees." He picked up the fern. "Well, the balcony's getting crowded. Might need to start a second garden."
*Or I could just stop accidentally growing giant plants,* Haruto thought. *That's also an option.*
They brought in the groceries, and Haruto helped put things away—carefully, so he didn't accidentally activate his quirk again and turn the kitchen into a jungle.
"Haru," his father said as they finished. "Come here for a second."
Haruto walked over, and his father knelt down to his level.
"I know today was hard," he said gently. "And I know you're frustrated with your quirk. But you need to understand something: power without control is dangerous. Not just to other people, but to you."
*I know,* Haruto thought. *Trust me, I know.*
"Your mother and I are going to help you learn control," his father continued. "But you need to be patient with yourself. These things take time."
*Time I don't have,* Haruto wanted to say. *There are things coming, events I need to stop, and I can't stop them if I can't even control my quirk enough to buy groceries.*
But his father was looking at him with such genuine concern that Haruto just nodded.
"I'll practice," he promised.
"I know you will." His father ruffled his hair. "You're a good kid, Haru. Even when you're accidentally growing ferns in grocery stores."
---
That evening, Haruto sat on the balcony with his new fern—which he'd decided to name Gerald, because why not—and tried to understand what had gone wrong.
*I felt the plants,* he thought, touching Gerald's leaves gently. *All of them. It was overwhelming. Too many voices at once.*
Gerald rustled slightly under his touch, and Haruto felt that familiar connection.
*Can you hear me?* he thought at the fern.
Gerald rustled again. It wasn't words, exactly. More like... feelings? Sensations? A sense of contentment and growth and reaching toward the sun.
*So I can communicate with plants,* Haruto realized. *Not in words, but in... something else.*
It was fascinating. It was also terrifying.
*How many plants can I sense at once?* he wondered. *If I walk into a forest, will I hear every tree? Every bush? Every blade of grass?*
The thought was overwhelming.
*I need to learn to filter,* Haruto decided. *To focus on one plant at a time instead of trying to connect with all of them at once.*
He practiced for the next hour, touching each balcony plant individually and trying to maintain a connection with just that one. It was hard—his quirk wanted to reach out to everything at once—but by the end, he could at least focus on a single plant without the others crowding in.
*Progress,* he thought. *Small, incremental progress.*
"Haru! Dinner!" his mother called.
Haruto gave Gerald one last pat and headed inside, feeling slightly more optimistic about his quirk control.
At dinner, his parents talked about their days while Haruto pushed rice around his plate.
"—and then Tanaka-san from accounting accidentally set his keyboard on fire with his quirk," his father was saying. "Third time this month."
"Maybe he needs quirk control classes," his mother suggested.
"He's forty-five. If he hasn't learned control by now, I don't think classes will help."
*So quirk control issues aren't just a kid thing,* Haruto thought. *That's oddly reassuring.*
After dinner, during bath time, Haruto's mother brought up a subject that made his stomach drop.
"Your father and I have been thinking," she said, washing his hair. "Maybe we should enroll you in a specialized quirk control program."
*A program? Like... classes?*
"There's one at the community center," she continued. "For children with powerful or hard-to-control quirks. They help teach focus and restraint."
*More structured activities with other children,* Haruto thought. *Joy.*
"Do I have to?" he asked.
"You don't *have* to," his mother said gently. "But it might help. You'd learn techniques for managing your quirk. And there'd be other kids like you—kids who are struggling with control."
*Other disaster children,* Haruto thought. *Great. We can form a support group.*
"Think about it," his mother said. "You don't have to decide right now."
But Haruto could tell from her tone that she'd already decided. The quirk control program was happening whether he liked it or not.
*Fine,* he thought. *At least I might learn something useful.*
*Or I'll just meet more people I have to pretend to be normal around.*
*Probably both.*
That night, lying in his crib, Haruto stared at the ceiling and thought about the day.
The grocery store disaster. Gerald the fern. His parents' concerned faces. The upcoming quirk control program.
*I'm two years old,* he thought, *and I've already caused property damage, social embarrassment, and probably traumatized several grocery store employees.*
*And I still have years of this ahead of me.*
*Years of learning control. Years of hiding my true intentions. Years of pretending to be a normal kid with a normal quirk and normal goals.*
*When all I really want is to be strong enough to change this world.*
From the balcony, he felt Gerald's presence. Content. Growing. Peaceful.
*At least someone's having a good day,* Haruto thought.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his mind kept replaying the moment in the grocery store. The plants calling to him. His quirk activating without permission. The look on his mother's face.
*I need to do better,* he thought. *Need to be better.*
*For them.*
*For everyone.*
*Even if it means going to quirk control classes with a bunch of other disaster children.*
*Even if it means more structured activities and less free time to plan world-saving operations.*
*It'll be fine.*
*Everything will be fine.*
Gerald rustled on the balcony, growing another inch.
*Everything is definitely not fine,* Haruto corrected. *But I'll make it work.*
*Somehow.*
---