Haruto had successfully avoided grocery stores for three weeks.
Three blessed, peaceful weeks of not being near large concentrations of produce that might suddenly decide to have opinions.
Then his mother announced they were out of milk.
"It'll be quick!" she promised, which was what she'd said last time before the Great Fern Incident.
Nothing is ever quick, Haruto thought, resigned to his fate. Especially not when I'm involved.
The supermarket was the same one from his previous disaster. As they walked in, Haruto swore he could feel the produce section judging him.
Great. The vegetables remember me.
"We just need milk, eggs, and bread," his mother said, grabbing a cart. "In and out. Easy."
She's tempting fate, Haruto thought. You don't say 'easy' before a grocery trip. That's how you end up on the evening news.
They made it past the entrance without incident. Past the bakery section. Past the canned goods.
So far so good, Haruto thought. Maybe this time will be different.
Then they reached the produce section.
Immediately, every plant in a fifty-foot radius started talking at once.
HELLO! the lettuce screamed. WE'RE DYING! SOMEONE MISTED US BUT IT'S NOT ENOUGH!
These lights are terrible, the herbs complained. And someone keeps touching us. We hate being touched.
I'm being sold next to TOMATOES, a cucumber announced dramatically. Do you know what tomatoes did to my cousin? DO YOU?
I don't want to know, Haruto thought, gripping the cart. I really don't want to know.
"Haru? You okay?" His mother looked down at him. "You look pale."
"Loud," Haruto said. "The plants are loud."
His mother glanced around at the produce section with concern. "Can you... turn it down? Like a volume control?"
If I could do that, I would have done it weeks ago.
"Don't know how," Haruto admitted.
"Okay. Well, we don't need vegetables today anyway. Let's just get what we came for and leave."
They hurried past the produce section, the plants still calling after them like needy children.
COME BACK! WE HAVE GRIEVANCES TO AIR!
No thank you, Haruto thought firmly.
They made it to the dairy section without further incident. His mother grabbed milk and eggs, looking relieved.
"See? Quick and easy—"
"MOM! Look! A boy from my class!"
A kid Haruto vaguely recognized from playgroup ran up, followed by his frazzled-looking mother.
"Oh! Hello!" Haruto's mother said politely. "How are you?"
"Exhausted," the other mother said. "Riku's been using his quirk on everything. He can make small objects float, which sounds cute until he floats all the furniture to the ceiling."
"Haruto grows plants on accident," his mother commiserated. "Last week he made the wallpaper in his room sprout leaves."
I did WHAT? Haruto thought. When did that happen? Why don't I remember that?
It was while you were sleeping, Gerald's voice somehow reached him from home. You had a dream about forests. The wallpaper suffered.
I'm growing plants in my SLEEP now?!
"Kids and quirks," Riku's mother laughed. "Never a dull moment."
While the mothers talked, Riku looked at Haruto with interest.
"You're the plant boy," he said.
My reputation precedes me.
"Yeah," Haruto confirmed.
"That's cool. Can you grow stuff right now?"
"Shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Last time I did it in a store, it was bad."
"How bad?"
"Really bad."
Riku considered this. "Wanna see my quirk?"
"Not really."
But Riku was already concentrating, and a can of soup started floating off the shelf.
"Riku, no!" his mother said sharply. "We talked about this! No quirks in public!"
"But I wanted to show him!"
"Put the soup down!"
Riku released his concentration. The soup can dropped.
Directly onto a display of pasta sauce jars.
The jars fell in slow motion, like a disaster movie. They hit the ground with spectacular crashes, sauce exploding everywhere.
"Oh my god," Riku's mother whispered. "Oh my god, not again."
A store employee rushed over, slipped in the sauce, and went down hard.
"CLEANUP IN AISLE FOUR!" someone yelled. "AND GET THE FIRST AID KIT!"
This is not my fault, Haruto thought. For once, this is not my fault.
"I'm so sorry!" Riku's mother was saying. "I'll pay for everything! Is he okay? Is the employee okay?"
The employee sat up, covered in marinara sauce. "I'm fine. Just my dignity that's hurt."
More employees appeared with mops and caution signs. Haruto and his mother backed away slowly, trying not to draw attention.
"Let's just get the bread and go," his mother muttered.
They made it to the bread aisle. Haruto thought they were safe.
Then Bakugo appeared.
"HARU!" Bakugo shouted across the aisle. "What are you doing here?!"
Shopping. Obviously. What does it look like?
"Buying bread," Haruto said.
"That's boring! Shopping is boring!"
"Katsuki, inside voice," Mitsuki said, appearing behind her son with a shopping cart. "Oh, Yuki! Haruto! Fancy meeting you here!"
It's a grocery store, Haruto thought. People meet here. That's how grocery stores work.
The mothers immediately started chatting. Bakugo looked at Haruto with his usual competitive energy.
"I bet I could carry more bread than you," Bakugo declared.
"Probably," Haruto agreed, because arguing with Bakugo was exhausting.
"Wait, you're not gonna fight me on this?"
"No."
"Why not?!"
"Don't care about bread carrying."
Bakugo looked personally offended. "Everyone should care about bread carrying! It's about STRENGTH!"
It's about bread, Haruto thought. Just bread. Why is everything a competition with this kid?
"Katsuki, leave Haruto alone," Mitsuki said without looking. "Let him shop in peace."
"But—"
"No buts. You remember what happened last time you started a competition in a store."
I don't want to know, Haruto thought. But I also kind of want to know.
Bakugo crossed his arms, scowling. "Fine. But I could still carry more bread."
"Nobody doubts that, sweetie," Mitsuki said in a tone that was somehow both affectionate and mocking.
As the mothers continued their conversation, Haruto noticed something concerning. The potted herbs near the bread aisle—decorative plants meant to make the store look fresh and organic—were leaning toward him.
Oh no.
Please don't, he thought at them. Please just stay where you are.
The herbs leaned closer.
We never get attention, one said sadly. Everyone walks past us. You're the first person to acknowledge us in weeks.
That's not my problem!
But you can help us! We need water! And better soil! And—
"Haru?" His mother noticed his expression. "What's wrong?"
"Plants," Haruto said. "They want help."
"Can you ignore them?"
I've been trying! They're persistent!
"They're loud," Haruto said.
Before his mother could respond, the herbs suddenly grew. Not a lot—just a few inches—but enough to be noticeable.
"Did those plants just grow?" Mitsuki asked, staring at them.
"Maybe?" Haruto's mother said weakly.
"Haru, did you do that?"
"Didn't mean to."
"COOL!" Bakugo shouted. "Do it again! Make them HUGE!"
"No," Haruto said firmly.
"Why not?! It'll be cool!"
"Last time I made plants huge in a store, bad things happened."
"What kind of bad things?"
"Expensive bad things."
A store manager appeared, looking at the slightly-larger herbs with suspicion. "Excuse me, but did your child just use his quirk on our plants?"
"It was an accident," Haruto's mother said quickly. "He's still learning control."
"Ma'am, we have a strict no-quirk policy in the store."
"I understand, but he's still a child. He doesn't have full control yet."
"Policy is policy."
Mitsuki stepped in. "Look, the plants grew a few inches. That's hardly property damage. My kid once blasted a hole in a freezer door and you guys just made me pay for it. This is basically free plant care."
The manager blinked. "Your son blasted a hole in our freezer?"
"You don't remember? Three months ago? Frozen foods section?"
"Oh. OH. You're THAT family."
There's a 'that family,' Haruto thought. And it's the Bakugos. I feel better about myself now.
"The plants are fine," Mitsuki said firmly. "Better than fine. Look at them! Healthiest herbs you've got!"
The manager examined the herbs. She had to admit, they did look remarkably healthy.
"Fine," she sighed. "But please keep your children's quirks under control while shopping."
"We're trying," both mothers said in unison.
After the manager left, Mitsuki looked at Haruto's mother. "You know what? Let's just finish shopping together. Safety in numbers."
Or danger in numbers, Haruto thought. This could go either way.
They made it through checkout without further incident, though the produce section yelled goodbye as they left.
COME BACK SOON! WE'LL BE WAITING! WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DISCUSS!
Please no, Haruto thought.
In the parking lot, while the mothers loaded groceries, Bakugo sidled up to Haruto.
"Your quirk is weird," Bakugo said.
"I know."
"But I guess it's kinda cool. Making plants grow and stuff."
Is this a compliment? From Bakugo? Am I dying?
"Thanks?" Haruto said cautiously.
"Don't let it go to your head!" Bakugo added quickly. "My quirk is still better!"
And there it is. The world makes sense again.
"Sure," Haruto agreed.
"You're supposed to argue!"
"Too tired."
Bakugo huffed. "You're boring when you're tired."
I'm boring in general, apparently.
On the drive home, Haruto's mother kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
"You okay, sweetie?" she asked.
"Tired of plants," Haruto said honestly.
"I can imagine. They sound very demanding."
"They are."
"What do they usually want?"
"Water. Better light. Someone to listen to them complain about being vegetables."
His mother laughed. "I'm sorry, but that last one is kind of funny."
It's less funny when you're the one being complained to by a cucumber about tomato proximity.
When they got home, his father was on the balcony with Gerald.
"How was shopping?" he called.
"We survived," Haruto's mother said. "Barely."
"That good, huh?"
"Haruto accidentally grew the store's decorative herbs. Riku from playgroup destroyed a pasta sauce display. We ran into the Bakugos, who apparently once blew a hole in a freezer."
His father nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sensing a pattern. Should we just ban Haruto from all retail establishments?"
"Don't tempt me," his mother muttered.
Haruto went straight to the balcony to debrief with Gerald.
How was shopping? Gerald asked.
"Terrible," Haruto said out loud. "The vegetables wouldn't shut up. I accidentally grew herbs. Bakugo was there."
A triple threat, Gerald observed. No wonder you look exhausted.
"The produce section said hi, by the way."
How are they?
"Complainy. Very complainy."
Produce sections are always complainy. Too much artificial light. Not enough natural soil. Plus they know they're going to be eaten. Puts them in a mood.
"You're very knowledgeable about produce section psychology."
I contain multitudes, Gerald said, which seemed to be his catchphrase now.
Haruto's father joined them on the balcony. "Heard you had an adventure."
"If by adventure you mean grocery store chaos, then yes."
His father sat down. "You know, when your mother was pregnant with you, we talked about what kind of kid you'd be. Smart, probably. Maybe a little shy. Possibly interested in engineering like me."
And instead you got a plant-whispering chaos generator.
"We never imagined... this," his father continued, gesturing vaguely at Haruto and the plants. "But you know what? It's better. More interesting."
"Really?" Haruto asked skeptically.
"Really. Boring kids are boring. You're never boring, Haru."
I'm a lot of things. Boring is definitely not one of them.
"Thanks, Dad," Haruto said.
"Though maybe we could aim for slightly less interesting during grocery trips?"
"I'll try."
"That's all we ask."
That evening, during dinner, his parents made an announcement.
"We've been thinking," his mother said. "About your quirk development and all the... incidents."
Uh oh. This sounds serious.
"We think you might benefit from one-on-one training," his father continued. "With someone who specializes in nature-based quirks."
"A tutor?" Haruto asked.
"More like a mentor. Someone who can help you understand and control your quirk better."
A mentor could actually be useful, Haruto thought. Someone who knows what they're doing, unlike me.
"Okay," Haruto agreed.
His parents looked relieved. "We'll start looking for someone qualified. In the meantime, try to avoid growing things in public?"
"I'll try."
"That's all we ask," they said in unison, which was kind of creepy.
Later, in his crib, Haruto thought about the day. The chaos. The complaints from vegetables. Bakugo's weird almost-compliment. The mention of a mentor.
Things are changing, he realized. Getting more complicated.
But that's okay. Complicated is fine. Complicated means progress.
As long as I stop accidentally growing plants in grocery stores.
That would be nice.
From the balcony, Gerald sent him a feeling of amused agreement.
The produce section will miss you, the fern teased.
The produce section can cope.
They'll be devastated.
They'll survive.
You're so cold, small human.
I learned from the best, Haruto thought back.
Was that a compliment?
Don't let it go to your head.
Gerald's mental laughter followed Haruto into sleep, along with the distant complaints of vegetables somewhere in the city who apparently had strong opinions about refrigeration.
My life is so weird, Haruto thought as consciousness faded.
But at least it's never boring.